I was just about to start writing about the nasty taste of ill sitting uncomfortably at the back of my throat when I realised I spent almost an entire post a few days ago writing about having a disgusting mouth. I also seem to write quite a lot about not being able to think of anything to write about, about slow cookers, about being tired, about H.P. Lovecraft, about... stuff. Probably the same stuff over and over again. Possibly not. I’d have to go back and read it all, but not sure I have time.
Reading it all back would be a bit like jumping in the wheelie bin when it’s full of a few weeks worth of vegetable peel and chewed beef fat; rolling around in my own waste and gorging fetishistically on my own sweet effluence. Basically these blogs are supposed to be written and put out there and left untouched. So I suppose the analogy falls down because I don’t display my used toilet paper and empty beer cans in public for the world to see. If I did I may attract a few more followers, but of a decidedly ikky variety. I guess with that roundabout way of thinking, illustrated with barely coherent sentences, I am trying to convince myself not to change the blog, especially if those changes attract coprophiliacs.
Fucking hell, what am I going on about? This genuinely is a babble I am digging into and struggling to get out of. Perhaps I would be well advised to retrace my steps over these last 91 days and check that I have included no other flurries of uncontrolled rivers of nonsense. Perhaps one of my readers, rare as jellyfish antlers, can inform me when I stray into the realm of intangible bollocks. I may have to step away and take a deep breath; move away from the blog and act like it’s got nothing to do with me.
“Who me? What, this mess? No, it was like that when I got here. No honestly, I’m not making it up; I really don’t know what happened.”
Ok, now that’s sorted and you all believe me, I can take a moment to regain my composure, choose a serious respectable topic and start a proper honest-to-goodness daily blog about a decent-godfearing subject like...
the coalition government’s policies on religious schooling, or my vintage bobble-hat collection, or my battle with cancer, or my obsession with model railways, or my War of the Roses battle re-enactment, or my newly appointed stint as Treasurer for my local Conservative Club, or my ongoing disagreement with the wife of the man who taught my daughter to drive before she had her crash and lost the ability to say the word ‘fertiliser’, or my pub crawl around the beautiful Norwegian city of Trondheim, or my unfulfilled ambition to become a taxidermist, or my hair transplant, or my xenophobic rants against the French, or my fair but firm reviews of all the hair salons in the Kansai region of Japan, or my ambition to be in the audience of a Christmas special of Loose Women, or my recipes for homemade jam on toast, or my pictures of me wearing the giant pair of trousers I used to fit into before I lost 24 stone, or the time I spent the night under a Jersey cow and how it changed my life.