I Start Again

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This blog started as a place for occasional philosophical essays. But they weren't very good, so I deleted them and started writing about my life - hoping vaguely to pull the same trick as Joe Orton, turning real life into art. But it turns out you need an interesting life to do that.

For a decade I wrote about whatever seemed:
(1) Interesting at the time to me, and
(2) Easy to read for others on account of being not deep or technical.

Which is odd, as most of what's interesting to me is quite technical and occasionally even deep.

A decade of abortive affairs (C, M, D, C again, B) , failed occupations, unfinished songs, unstarted novels, and following around a party of politicos until I gradually realised:
(1) I didn't need them (anymore) as a support group, and
(2) Their philosophical insights which had once seemed fascinating were, well...gibberish.

Then in early 2015 I got depression. I generally get depression in winter and it's something I've just learned to sit through, but this black pit was blacker and pittier than usual.

And then my father was hospitalised with pneumonia. And then mother was stuck down with something similar. And then I got it. We managed to nurse each other through it all.

So. Blog. Time for a re-evaluation. And also re-launch, re-trospective and re-ality check.

There's no reason not to write stuff which some other people might find uninteresting, difficult, left-field etc. But there is a reason to write. I don't know what that reason is, because it's emotional not rational and I'm not on speaking terms with my emotions, but there's a reason.

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