What is the purpose of this sterile, arid, text-intensive blog?
Arnold Schönberg
Genius, recognised
Girl with a red hat
Vermeer painting
It’s not the 2010s anymore, you know. Where is the topical content, where are the polished image embeds, what’s the social media strategy?
That domain name is rather full of itself, wouldn’t you say? I mean, I get the whole “it’s ironic, actually, because look at the logo which is in jest of the unrecognised genius notion” thing, and I guess that makes it less narcissistic, but isn’t that still way more narcissistic than choosing a different domain name in the first place?
Lavinia Amberlain
Liaison
Vladimir Acula
Doctor of Medicine
What’s with the bloody word counter in the blog posts? It makes no sense! It’s doesn’t count the words of the entries, and most of the time it doesn’t even change from post to post!
I’ll give you a fiver for every time you quote me on your stupid blog.
My cousin
Family member (as in we’re related but he’s also a dick)
This is me:
Specifically, this guy:
And though I’m not so little anymore, really, I am.
My mother tells me that I am rather slow when it comes to realising the important stuff, and that I take after my father that way (both are depicted in the picture above, in case you were wondering what crowd I was holidaying with when I was 5).
All I ever really wanted to do was write, and the trouble with that statement is that it’s, in equal shares, both cheesy and true. Writing has always been that tiny island in the middle of the vast ocean, and I never believed I could be any good at it, so I’ve sailed off far and away from it.
It turns out that no matter how far you stray, no matter how good you become at other things, they remain just other things. Well, I’ve enough of spending all my time on other things, so in the wake of this New Year’s Eve, I’ve decided it’s got to stop.
The problem with that notion is I’ve decided this many times before, from which follows that wanting something to stop is not enough, one also has to actively work towards making it stop. I know, a truly ingenious realisation, particularly since it took me only the better part of twenty-seven years to come to it. The trouble with my mother is that she is aggravatingly correct most of the time.
So, this is it. I’m sailing back. This blog will document it, whether I make it or not, one way or another. And along the way, I’d like to fill it with things that remind me of who I used to be, so I can look at them and cringe in devastating embarrassment later.