by Jarret Liotta

WESTPORT — As I sit here contemplating topics to address in this week’s column, I find myself considering the purpose — or perhaps more accurately the value — of focusing on whatever it is I’m going to choose to write about (and asking myself whether it’s really a worthwhile investment of time, energy, attention and column inches) …

For instance, there are a wealth of eye-rolling complaints I endure on a regular basis in this weird editorial role — recurring ones about how people don’t like the pictures of them we’ve used, because they’re not flattering enough or — so they believe — make them look nefarious, suspicious, or not enough like George Clooney … or they argue with me that our coverage is wrong in some way beyond the facts themselves, and I’m responsible for bringing about untoward heaps of unhappiness (perhaps similar to what my ex-wife used to endure) … or perhaps — despite the fact that we are, in essence, a free PR vehicle for the many community members to have their events and stories plugged, they indicate that we don’t do enough for them, we’re not including all the minute details that they want highlighted, or we’re not crafting the message to maximize their exposure and benefit according to their respective brands or what-have-you, or perhaps we’re even just not doing enough articles about them by number …

Sometimes it would seem I’m just indirectly responsible for one of several problems plaguing our li’l ol’ community, and perhaps if I were just a little less of an insipid big-mouthed wag who undervalues serious ceremony and instead mocks the foundations of good, respectable, decent folks and their related process, you would all be a much happier readership …

Likewise, I have my own complaints — the sting of my heart being broken by the myriad fair-weather friends I attract in this weird, obtuse role — poor actors who pretend their previous snubs of me never happened, but now want coverage of something on demand … seductive manipulators who strive to grant me a favor based solely on the hopes of buying one back … suspicious personages who walk warily around my shadow, convinced that I make my living exposing the very intimate soul of the common person for some strangely nefarious — and to me completely mysterious (and non-existent) — endgame …

And beyond the observations born of my personal experiences as a quasi-public figure, contemplation of column material also includes random views of the town itself — the simultaneously imperfect yet valiant functioning of her government and its chipper officials — both paid and volunteer — the playground of political personalities in all different areas and their all-too-personal problems and antics, the cultures, scenes and scenarios wrapped up with Westport’s people, as well as those many that touch their lives too …

With all this critical clutter coagulating in my mouse-sized mind, I arrive at a stark realization that I can’t really write about any of it without building upon a sour foundation of un-constructive negativity. (Not that this is never of value — for some of my funniest lines are directly linked to the negative observations of that strange, silly world around me — but sometimes, like now, it just seems so ridiculous to devote precious time and space to lambasting people, places and things that 1) I have no control over 2) will likely never change 3) are basically, like me, people who are just doing the best they can to get along in this strange, spooky, harrowing world without falling into a crevice or getting hit on the head by a stray meteor and — most important — 4) probably will never net any fresh sassy one-liners really worth reporting anyway …

So what to share about?? What to offer this fellowship of readers that will serve some value beyond my arbitrary and compulsive critical commentary of people, places and things?

Lemme think about that and get back to you next week …

.