the author

The author of this blog is a self-taught, self-learned student of life.

He’s exhaustive and exhausting. He doesn’t sleep well, if he sleeps at all, but, as Freud, he has no illusions about coming through the ordeal unscathed.

He feels, and thinks, and loves, and has lost. Not always in that order, and certainly not in equal proportion.

He has lived. It’s arguable he’s also died. Frankly, it’s worth the suggestion that he has not and may never be, at all.

To sully the idea of ‘a Driz’ with facticity is an unforgiveable waste. My writing aims to be specificially unspecific and indirectly universal - my feelings I express, my ideas I put forth, are all the same your ideas, and your feelings, if you can find truth in them, if you feel they are expressed as you’d want them to be. There are no labels, no dates, no individuality. I don’t feel like just one person. I borrow my words like I borrow my life; I’m just a lense and a platform. An alternate perception. A reaction, as genuine a reaction as possible, that I hope you can borrow for yourself.

The prism with which I hope you might use to focus your own heart and soul. And what a silly hope to have, is it not? But I am to be used, as all tools are. Mishandle the blade and cut yourself, or learn to wield it and through it, master yourself.

I wrote once that trust is a blade forged - layer by layer it is folded upon itself, hammered into existence, and when complete it’s beauty is rivaled only by the threat of it’s cut. That is the relationship I would desire from my readers, if my desire were a thing at all.

I ask not for reward, or recompense.

~ Driz