Please Love Me

Really I was just ruminating on what a supreme ‘bitcah’ I was in university and some of the people my messed up brain screwed with. And I wanted to post here. And I have nothing else to say of remote interest.

Gosh, it’s really strange being ‘anonymous’. I’ve never written a blog under a nickname that people who knew me wouldn’t recognise and so I really can write anything.

I wish I had something to report on the writing front. The lack of progress especially stings when you find out an ex-university acquaintance has completed some kind of masters in your absence from the world of institutional education.

Still, I shall keep soldiering on into the nothingness.

Dreamaddled

Yes that’s right, ‘dreamaddled’ a word I have just coined in order to describe the state of being off-kilter all day after suffering through a particularly emotionally strenuous/horrific dream. I shan’t go into detail; you dear internet are the last thing to be gifted with information like that because we all know you’ll let it spill out when you get drunk down the pub with your ‘mates’ at the weekend and then you’ll come round and attempt an apology and I’ll get angry and you’ll slink off and we won’t speak for a fortnight and we’ll both be miserable, suffice to say my subconscious has knocked me about a little. So no writing.

I know, I know, but it’s not an excuse, honest; I had no real plans to write today anyway. I’m thinking this emotional imbalance could be the prelude to a period of great creativity for me though so I shall not complain or bemoan the lack of sufficient rational faculties on my part too much.

Oh, and as an addendum to my last post, in the wake of the conference I finally came down on Labour’s side. This is hardly a surprise for those who know me but still I felt a brief follow up to my political quandary was merited.

The fight for Middleground (with added splinters)

Have found myself hopelessly torn between my old muckers Labour and that relentless young pup, insufferable creature that it is, the Lib Dems. It’s been a knock-out, stand up fight all summer long and as the winter nights draw in I find I must declare a winner and yet I still can’t seem to to bring myself to jump. And so I sit, on this nice fence I’ve constructed for the very purpose of surveying all those around me. (Could do with lick of paint though.)

Beloved Television Pundits,

I shall not be drawn into naming the gloopy miasma that serves as either the rebirth of this once great party or the mudpool in which it slowly asphyxiates. I don’t believe all is lost for the Reds yet. However, a vote from me for Labour would indeed be somewhat a vote against the Blue Team and I find negative voting ever so slightly abhorrent. So it’s not Labour or die. It’s not the ‘shambolic’ Libs (your word) or die either.

Love, The Left Leaning Long Distance Writer xx

Would like to be shown something to believe in. Would not like the font of nothing that our cousins seem to have elected though; it seems 300,000 coins in the wishing well answer no prayers.

Oh, the horrors; a political post (lite) and I thought I wrote fluff; I was going to tell all about my diet but must leave that for tomorrow.

Trials and Tribulations

Have often thought I should keep a diary to chronicle ‘The Great Work’: whatever it may be. Will most probably end up chronicling my utter failure; and no one shall care…

Do not know if I shall keep this up. Only in prior cases this sort of thing was an attempt to leave a record of my daily trials and tribulation; a girlish preoccupation of epic proportions. This latest is prompted by the loneliness of writing, well, anything, but mostly a novel and other assorted side projects. It will document the highs and oh so many lows of being a non-professional writer with, count them, zero readers; wanted or unwanted…

In closing, I shall refrain from addressing these thoughts to ‘Kitty’ but in all other respects am conscious of this blog being a confidante of sorts. The work is in progress and now too is the diary.

Good times. Bad times. Times. Shall soon be had by those who read and those who write.