Just found this little guy in an old watercolour book. Day off work today.
Been doodling a bit on paper to free my constraints. Pleasant.
Hello people who follow this blog. I am despondent. There doesn’t seem much point to write here anymore, and yet still so much has not changed to lead me to feel I am incorrect in this perception at this time. Yes I am whining…
You all like a good rant right? Some uplifting poetry perhaps?
Or can we just get real?
I live in an imaginary world. Filled with idiots, so akin to the real one, but still – imaginary. It is however also filled with wonderful moments where I drift off into my other worldly places and have long conversations with imaginary people partake in imaginary situations. My words take me where-ever they wish to. They express hidden sentiments that creep in like a fog on a cold winters day. I like to interact with people, but find it harder and harder to find time to visit different places – probably because I have so many of them popping up inside my head.
We say this so many times as writers, ‘I write for myself’, or ‘I blog for myself,’ and that is just utter bollocks! I really, really enjoy writing, but I really enjoy knowing people might relate or get something from it. We all do. It somehow makes us feel like we have something to give to each other.
We all go through cycles where we question our lives and our actions and even our temptations and desires – basically we question our own humanity and mortality. Well maybe not all people do that but I know most of the people who have read here before are thus way inclined.
This blog IS a journey of self discovery in every word a contradiction to account for, in every lack a strength and in every connection a lesson.
I often wonder where it is going but I have absolutely no idea and that is fine, but one thing I won’t do is allow it to just fade into the dark hole of the internet..and it is.
I would rather, as I have discovered in the last few months, let it go with dignity.
That being said, it would be a terrible shame to throw away five years of telling a story to never get to the end.
I have contemplated what to do with my posts that are in pending and I am leaning toward making them live again… it is JUST not the same picture without them lurking in the background waiting to be stumbled on.
I took them down as I wanted to go through them to put together a small book AND get them organised how I would like to. But I figure, I can still do that!
In the meantime, the entire reason I write is NOT for money or fame or accolades of prestige or any such thing, it is for people. I write for people.
I want people to see HUMAN In every word.
Flawed. Broken. Mysterious. Happy, sad, melancholy.
Whole and strong in all our weakness. At times you may disagree with what I write or maybe not understand full well. You may wonder if I have completely lost the plot and gone off onto a disarrayed path, and you are probably right – I probably do that a lot. Correction I DO that a LOT..only to come back around again wiser (sometimes) and more passionately flawed then before.
This is not a place for perfect poetry and pictures placed just so on a feed of instantly gratifying images where the world scrolls by without paying much more than a seconds attention all in the hopes of getting noticed and gaining some traction for whatever dream they may have that they feel they may be able to gain exposure for in this mayhem of a place called social media…
THIS – is fucking home!
1170 posts pending. 263 drafts.
Many a word there to find a place for.
It is this category thing screwing with me isn’t it?
I cannot recall why I put ALL my fucking posts as pending, though I think it was to try become vaguely more organised in it. That was the original intention of creating a blog over three (four?) years back, to have a place to put the poems and subconscious babble in some sort of coherent album type thing.
Now it is done, I don’t know if I should ‘undone’ it, or republish shit, or move along and let them be.
Though, one thing I DO know is blogging changed me and my relationship with people and the world, more than I imagined it could.
(for better hopefully, though in moments creating misery swinging oft toward elation…ffs. 😉 )
Another three years then?
Another thing –
I started posting some of the poetry on Instagram (It is fun a little, Kinda) :
Yes I realise I cropped it like a novice Instagrammer – that would be because I am one.