Sunday, December 27, 2009

Why not just write any old rubbish?

"Such a long time has passed since first I promised you the story of my adventures I am resolved to keep my word today, seeing we are happily met together to season those matters with lively conversation and tales of a merry and diverting sort."

So begins this olde worlde 'novel', The Satyricon by some geezer called Petronius. A Roman fellow, long dead. And yeah, I been readin a bit of it, innit? It's Boxing Day and apparently it's 3 long months since I got round to do any bloggage writing. It may even be 4 months. One of the weird things is that even though I did write nothing, there were still some unpleasant people reading a few of my words at random and calling me a stupid *aunt*. Which is amusing - why anyone would bother I don't know. Silly silly peoples.

I am tempted to start writing again. If only so I can annoy some casual browser into swearing at me. I stopped for a number of reasons: no internet firstly, then life thingys later. Not having a job/needing a job/moving house all that life changing bla bla.

Actually all the sort of stuff that makes other people's blogs interesting and I tend to miss out of mine. Or try to miss out.

I also realised that whilst I was busy I had no ideas about the world. No theories or interesting words. Just bus timetables and bank balances in my head. Receipts from B&Q in my pockets. A head full of worries and alcohol. But now it's almost year's end and all of that nonsense is over. I still have no money but so does everyone else it seems. I could have blogged about all that. Recorded my anguish on certain days. My relief when I managed to cheat or lie or work my way through the day. Sometimes just doing nothing works. Stuff can just improve over time. It's like when you're sure you have skin cancer and then have a wash and the spot of bike oil rubs off your neck. Oh. Well that's a relief. Even if I do feel a little stupid. Not that that ever happened. Obviously.

'Dad always said a person must have a magnificent reason for writing out his or her Life Story and expecting anyone to read it. "Unless your name is something along the lines of Mozart, Matisse, Churchill, Che Guevara or Bond - James Bond - you best spend your free time finger painting or playing shuffleboard, for no one, with the exception of your flabby-armed mother with stiff hair and a mashed-potato way of looking at you, will want to hear the particulars of your pitiable existence."' from 'Special Topics in Calamity Physics' by Marisha Pessl.

I've been reading that book as well: It's like ... y'know, I d'know.... How's that for a book review?

It rhymes if nothing else.

So yeah. I figure I might start writing some more stuff up here for my own casual amusement. Mundane stuff. Short posts. Like the regular folks do. I have no theories or ideas, but if you just keep writing ideas can sometimes appear... 

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