Earlier, I mentioned that I have been a *message board* person for many years. There are many reasons why that is my favorite form of communication.

First, because words do not disappear as they do in a *chat room*. So you are at leisure to answer what has been written without fear of having the original post vanish into the ether (as they do in a chat room). It also allows you time to ruminate and make sure that you are able to answer with clarity and precision and especially, not in the heat of any given moment, if the original post was inflamatory.

In short, you are allowed the time to compose an intelligent response, without the need to rush your thought process. Usually, our first thought is our best thought but there are exceptions to this *rule* and a board gives you that chance to rethink your first answer and consider if it can be improved upon.

When you have spent a quality amount of time with the members of a board and you see that those ties are coming to an end it is not at all unlike a mourning process. When a board dies for whatever reason, it is always a loss. You will miss meeting up with the same people that you have counted on seeing every day and you will inevitably be saddened by that loss.

I am sure that the same must apply to a blog, although I have not personally witnessed it. I am still so new to blogging that I can't even imagine such a close knit society springing from one person's blog. Perhaps that is because a blog seems to be about the author and even though many people join in and comment, it still seems to be a personal journey for the one who begins the dialog. I certainly mean no offense to bloggers. In fact, I have found the blogs here to be intelligent, insightful, thought provoking and in some cases, quite funny. Indeed, I have yet to find a blog that was the least bit uninteresting. That, in itself, is amazing. I look forward to the day when I not only figure out blogging but feel comfortable doing it.

The following is a poem I wrote when I learned that a board I loved was closing. I am NOT a poet (by any means) but at times I am moved to try and write poetry, depending on the subject at hand. Noah Counte and I were on this board and we both felt great sadness at it's passing. The board was named *The Alley Way* and it's members were called *Catz*. This is a description of what caused this board to fall to it's untimely death. The *Queen* is not a real person but rather an imagined matriarch, who was privy to the entire event.


The Alley Queen

There she sits, up in that alley
cold as ice and hard as stone
and if you cared to take the tally
of all the years she’s been alone

You’d be surprised, to say the least
shocked no doubt, to know the truth
of how the fighting finally ceased
and how she suddenly lost her youth

She’s gray and old and bent and frail
her face is etched with every story
and if you asked, she’d tell the tale
of every cat, in all their glory

She’s seen them come and watched them go
all from high atop her throne
they’ve risen up and been brought low
she’s seen them flame, and heard them moan

The evolution has been astounding
from mighty battles to pissing matches
words that wounded by their sounding
heads lopped off in verbal snatches

Moving here and going there
the Catz hung in and then regrouped
they carried on without a care
nothing stopped them, as they recouped

and then the most amazing thing
as they stopped to rest one day
the sound of uneasiness began to ring
and surely, the Catz began to stray

It wasn’t as if they hadn’t known
for they’d been warned a time or two
but seeds of doubt had now been sown
and the ones remaining, seemed too few

the Queen, she roared with indignation
to see her Catz spread far and near
and yet in her own supplication
had no answer for what she held dear

So there she sits up in that Alley
a cardboard box her only home
and if her Catz, she could rally
they’d linger here, no more to roam

But give her a cigarette, and then a drink
and ask for details, don’t be shy
she’ll tell you exactly what she thinks
and should you wonder, ask her why.

She’s lived here long enough to know
and watched each one as they departed
she shed a tear as each Cat would go
leaving her alone and broken hearted.

It all happened in a dream, some say
she has a different view of history
it couldn’t have happened quite that way
and for most, it remains a mystery.

But there she sits up in that Alley
cold as ice and hard as stone
waiting, as ever, for the Catz to rally
and join her in her only home.

~Caj~ 12/23/02