It's like I'm new to blogging, like I've never done it before, tentatively taking my first steps into a world of writing about whatever in the vain hope that someone reads it, while simultaneously hoping no one does. Wanting to write something, and being so self absorbed as to write almost entirely about oneself, but so unconvinced of ones own worth that can't think of anything more tedious than ones own thoughts and activities. God, blogging is boring. I'm unofficially considering myself on a wee bit of a hiatus.
It's times like this when I really ought to be working hard to find my own unique take on the Queen's diamond jubilee or the relay of the Olympic torch, but I honestly couldn't give two flying gibbering jabbering moulting leaping squawking squatting wanking fucks about either of the tedious fucking things. I'm hostile to them both. But neither particularly knowledgeable nor hostile enough to be able to string together coherent rants or arguments. So the easier option is just to act like neither of them are happening. Which is lucky, cos neither of them are happening. They are just a collective delusion, the madness of crowds, the flag-waving of the rank and file, the sycophancy of the enslaved.
Other subjects or recent personal experience any writer worth his salt would be using and abusing for source of copy are the awesome ring I now must wear as a 'keep off' sign to all the billions of the world's women who happen not to be my wife; the experience of delivering a speech and the surprising relaxed ease in which it was done; the weird, fucking weird, experience of being a customer in an Apple store (which could not be more weird, fucking weird, if it were staffed by the suicides manning the desks in Beetlejuice's afterlife bureaucracy); having a massage for the first, and so far only, time. And all the others. Breathing in and out and catching a bus. Oh, and I saw my first Orange marches in Belfast, immediately followed by (in a different part of the city centre, not as part of the same cultural event) capoeiristas, drummers and berimbau players presenting a display of Brazilian music and martial arts.
Stuff to write about, I'm just well wound down and finding it difficult to return to the same level of urgency. …..GO! ….....GO! I'm trying to get myself going, and this fairly pointless post about nothing is my way of encouraging myself.