Why?

Welcome. Ah, I see you brought flowers. How kind. I'll be glad you came.


I: in which the protagonist begins by making an uncharacteristically lengthy statement of intent, in the vain hope that the reader will take a minute to read it


The narcissistic tooth-pull of personal webpages is all-too-familiar to anyone who's used the internet in the last fifteen years. Let's face it - 99% of them are of less interest to the discerning adult than the pebble which currently sits between the grooves on the sole of my shoe. Where's the passion? The originality? The basic literacy skills?

If you asked me to give a reason for the existence of this blog, I'd say that there are aspects of my outlook on life and its attendant agonies and ecstasies which I'd like to articulate, in an effort to map the stranger, colder or lovelier territories which exist on the fringes of the mind (well, mine at least). There'll be art and music and links to related writings and all the usual sensory crisscross which you've come to expect from modern life, and I'll attempt to tie all these strands into a somewhat palatable whole. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll glance at the clock and politely make your excuses.

Verbal onanism, self-indulgence, the pitiable wail of a fractured mind - call it what you will. At the very least, I would like to present a reasonable approximation of Life As I See It, without being insufferable, irrelevant and ignorant, and thus permanently reverse the polarity of the internet. Or something. One thing's for sure - every post will contain a link to download music which has burrowed into my brain and deposited something pure and true and wonderful.

With each keystroke, I seem to stumble further into some unfolding sentence, treading aimlessly over virgin ground, swinging a lantern in the dusklight. I don't quite know where I'm headed, but I'm sure it'll become clear with time. So...how to begin? I suppose I could pluck something from the uppermost shelves, something which resonates, something with the scent of melancholy, the ring of awful and elegant truth. After all, you're stepping into my head, and you've already wiped your feet on the doormat without even being asked.

I know...let's start with a picture. Everyone likes pictures.

Something I made. There will be a lot of art on this blog, and it'll all bear the unique imprint of my soul.*

Well, this post has exhausted its potential. I'll do another one tomorrow - a flashier, more interactive, more emotionally fulfilling and (crucially) shorter post.

Thanks very much for reading. Do come back. There will be something new every few days and I'd like to hear your thoughts.


* imprint can be found on reverse of picture