Return Ticket

“The time of its launch I just wanted to do something. Experience for once how it felt to pull my ass from the bench and respond to this persistent beckon of sorts to start”

Allow me— Just kidding. There will be no trite redundancies at this address. I left. Period. And before the idea of returning could even be considered, seriously, there were specific details that had to be straightened out. Made correct. Rectified. Regall & Greyne was a decent enough concept, with potential, but it was not given time to mature. Looking back, it was a rushed effort. An honest one, but rushed. The time of its launch I just wanted to do something. Experience for once how it felt to pull my ass from the bench and respond to this persistent beckon of sorts to start. So, I did. And it felt good. There were victories and rewards. I was able to represent a friend, and do it well which forged a bond. I was also able express my opinion of a talented group making waves in the Dallas-Fort Worth by brewing exceptional beer. And while either of those two occasions fostered some confidence, it was not enough to keep me engaged. Which was more an issue with me, than it was my work.

A subject that may be broken down at a later date.

The reason for this…forward of sorts is to solidify a few elements. Really one. This is not a triumphant return as there was no glorious conclusion of the previous effort. Not even a tapering off or a slow down. I quit. Simple. I allowed apprehension and the individuals often in its company to make decisions that were not optimal on a couple of fronts. Important ones.

Before committing to write what is being read, I had to answer a few burdensome questions. And answer them honestly. My concern was not whether the answers were inspiring or even good. The need was that they be transparent and true. At least then I would have a better understanding of what lead my previous effort to failure. Having knowledge of that would hopefully keep history from having a significant impact on what I chose to do moving forward, be it here or any other venture. Because this extended beyond writing, this was a lethal fume. The carbon monoxide of my success and happiness.

The first question, and probably the most important. Do I want to write? Seriously. Is that something I am interested in pursuing?

A few years back, I was speaking with my grandfather, Papa. It was a candid conversation. I expressed to him the issues I was facing regarding life and direction. The memory of it isn’t clear, but somewhere in our exchange I let it slip that I wanted to write and had one or two completed projects. What he said to me in response, should have been enough for me to cast off fear and charge forward. But it wasn’t, because I sat there, both literally and by metaphor and did nothing with his wisdom, buy contend with it quietly. I again was permitting my ego to have a say when it should have been a silent student. But you know, my thirty-two years of life knew better than his sixty plus. Mind you he is a war veteran, so the correct thing to do would have been to submit myself to his words and get after it. But…

“If you’re gonna write and not do anything with it you may as well throw that paper in the fire…”

There wasn’t much to think or speak in response to Papa’s statement. I had no defense, nothing reliable. Any cowardice remark I could think up was smothered quick. So, again, I sat there. Took no action and sulked. Sulked. And sulked some more. Because that hurt. Not his saying it, but the truth of what he said. The image he painted rears its head frequently. Each time the archives are pulled from the dust and reviewed by me, again, that statement catches fire. So, the question. Rephrased, taking into account Papa’s wisdom.

Will you continue feeding these flames?

My response time is detestable at best, especially when it comes to my commitment regarding elements of my life that are significant. But, I did decided. And while I still may wrestle with my decision, there is inarguable evidence stating that regret is a greater burden than failure, should the latter even materialize.

The second question that need be resolved concerned subject matter. What will be written? Will there be boundaries? Who will be the audience? Etcetera…Etcetera. To my relief that answer came simple, all gratitude to that extensive time spent warming the bench. It provided nothing if not space to ruminate. And observe with a critical eye the written terrain. This was not limited to topics, but tone also. The style, the voices, creativity, was it done well or done poorly. Because should I decided to return, and at the time that was a tremendous IF, my deepest concern was not necessarily the what, but the how. How would I set myself part in terms of expression.

The web is saturated, drowning even, with opinions and perspectives. And while the tone from one to another may be indiscernible, or without noticeable variation, they have each managed to appeal to a specific mass. That remark was a bit petulant. Everyone possesses a voice. A message. Or something of the like. What I am attempting to articulate is really nothing short of a need to be heard. Though that may be an oversimplification.

I want my voice to be distinguished. Identifiable. I don’t simply want to speak, because I have something that I believe need be said. I want to write, because there exists in me something that need be heard. Or read. A voice that transcends topic. Pierces the heart and rouses the soul. To be lost amongst the echoes would be quite dissatisfying. And while to a degree that may be inevitable, I will not subject my story to such a bitter fate without first exhausting honest effort in pursuit of a better one.

So, the answer to question number two. I will write about whatever I want. All that need be honored is an unwavering commitment to transparency and authenticity. A mountain worth the climb.

Final question. Under what alias will I resume this undertaking. Regall & Greyne, again, was a decent enough starting point, but given the amount of time that has gone by, it no longer felt appropriate. And, honestly, it probably in no way ever was. That may be a little harsh. Regardless, to step back into this area under an expired title, given all the changes that had been made and would be made, felt similar to wearing a shirt I have well outgrown. Not right. Restrictive. To pursue this again, and do so correctly, aged elements would have be cast off. There would need to be a new name. One that was not some conjoined effort. It would need to be all me. A name I came up with alone. Emblematic of all I felt would be required of me if this pursuit would be successful, and everything I had learned leading up to this objective. That sounds like quite a bit, and still a bit ambiguous. It will make sense. Onto the name…

Donnie Greye.

For some time, and at moments, presently, I wrestled with this title. A portion of me believes that I should use my actual name, because it is unique and what better way to communicate assurance than to stand on your own name. Two things. One, that is a valid argument. Two, and this is a more a humorous rebuttal, who doesn’t want alias. A nickname. Let’s be honest. Names are fun and to have one that I believe is a decent execution of my talents…it is only right. That and…Donnie Greye sounds good. To me. Real nice. Perfect flow. Great for introduction. All those things. The purpose is much deeper than that, but for the sake of time and the investment of your curiosity that can be distilled down the line. For now, I will leave with that.

Donnie Greye.

Well, this is where the train stops. I want express my appreciation for those who endured and remained. This was not an easy decision to make, though it should’ve been. I do enjoy writing, sincerely. The sun has yet to rise on day and I did not want to immerse myself in this discipline. And most often I did. Even if only briefly. It is a craft I have long enjoyed, before it became popular and a means a to bring in money. There are elementary school nights I am able to recall vividly, where I would lie on my stomach, in front of a generic spiral and build these worlds by written word. It is who I am. Deeper. It is what I am. Many may write great, but I am a great writer. Words, language, ink or key, are a portion of the tool that knit together my composition. I would do this with or without an audience. I have in fact; for much longer than some consider appropriate or healthy. I was afraid and worried. Made myself a victim to the same unproductive inclinations many of you may be familiar with. And eventually…eventually, eventually, I just grew tired of it. The cowardice and all components that serve as its constitution…or make-up. It became too laborious and painful, lugging myself into the flames, pulling myself out and doing so again and again…and again. So, I want to stop. And I want to know what this could be, I’m not saying I want to know failure, but I do not enjoy regret…or whatever this is…or was. Seeing as how I am here, writing…and you are here, hopefully, reading.

I want to thank you again, sincerely for taking the time, I know it’s a precious element and we all have allocated it to various details of our life. So, the fact you thought this interesting, enough so that you sacrificed your own time, I appreciate that. Sincerely. In closing, if you did enjoy this entry. I invite you back, one to hold me accountable and two, for your own enjoyment. Or maybe you just need a break and hopefully a fresh perspective. Whatever your inclination, come back.

Let’s watch this fire die…