Soundtracks to this post: 1. A Flock of Seagulls – I Ran 2. Kimbra – Cameo Lover 3. Lana Del Rey – Born To Die 4. Friendly Fires – Strangelove (Depeche Mode cover) 5. Madi Diaz – Does It Rain
I started this blog last year. It was late November and my book had recently been made available on Amazon as a Kindle ebook. I was elated, anxious and somewhat like the magazine, dazed and confused. Despite the tumultuous cacophony of emotions swarming inside me like a hive of bees working away yet ever-mindful of the likelihood of disturbances from the disorderly and ruthless world existing just a few inches away, I found myself sorely lacking in the very different kind of inspiration one needs to maintain a thing such as a blog. After a month and a bit of resisting, eschewing and flipping birds certainly not of the David Attenborough variety, something happened. After a month and a bit, I realised something: a blog is like a baby. No, you haven’t been afflicted with temporary dyslexia, alexia or selective miscomprehension, I really did just write that then make it bold just so you didn’t miss it. A blog is like a baby in two ways:
A. Ideally, it should only really be conceived and brought into the world for a reason but if that reason was lacking before its conception and birth, it should manifest very soon after.
B. Once brought into the world, it has to be nurtured with the determination, drive and meticulousness only prior planning, post-birth love or both can engender in the parent.
Post-realisation, I felt able to turn my initial false start, my initial neglect of my parental responsibilities towards this blog, my botched abortion into something worthwhile. No, before you ask, not for you or the world but for ME. I’m not writing to change the world or touch ‘even if it’s just one other person’, I’m writing because I’m finally able to jot down my 23-year long internal diamonologue (lexical mash-up of ’dialogue’ and ‘monologue’…yeah I’m bad ass as fuck right now…lock up your daughters AND sons) in a way that is conducive to this medium that is so reminiscent of every one of humankind’s musings ever since the first scratchings, etchings and powder blowings on rock faces and within caves yet so unlike anything that came before it. This new year, 2012, astrologically favourable this 1988-born Pisces, seems to have blown away all that I imagined and only half-convincingly told myself stood in the way of me joining the ranks of that shadowy, Fourth Estate-superseding and surreptitiously threatening class of internet citizens collectively known as ‘bloggers‘ *cue menacing music*. Now a blogger *cue no.2*, I finally have somewhere to immortalise my spontaneous lyrics, poems, observations and rants covering all, sundry and nothing much at all.
As has been habitual for me for the last four years, I find myself refreshing DrudgeReport (the news aggregator) and checking my Facebook at 7-minute intervals as if I’m waiting for some news vital to the living of my life or the continued rotation of the Earth on its periodically shifting axis. I wonder if I am truly as alone in this dual-checking as I imagine myself to be and if it betrays some suppressed Freudian desire or consciousness-gnawing angst that comes with fully interacting with the freneticism of modern always-on digital life…nah, didn’t think so. As a final thought before I go to my bed and lie down while trying with all my might to resist having a sleep-annihilating line, I will leave you with the following parting wish: I hope they allow Ron Paul win Iowa.