Friday, November 24, 2006

"Clear!" -zzzzz- "A Pulse! We Have a Pulse! Wait, do we want a pulse? I mean, are we sure?"

Well well well!

The boy lives!

The boy has even managed to scrape together a new template! Granted, it isn't a very flash template, neither is it a very pretty one, nor is it particularly musical/theatrical/artistic. But then we can't all be musicians/actors/gay, can we.


Excuse that last bit if you're of a certain persuasion.


Otherwise, of course, just have a laugh with me. Its not necessarily an anti-anything comment, so please don't take it that way! Perhaps you could think of it as simply being a rather astute assesment of the way things are, some of the time.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

So yes, I have returned, riding into the world of Blogs on a donkey. Well, not so much a donkey as a rather-more-comfortable desk chair, really. But still. The image was good.

Why am I back, you say? Why have I decided, acquiescing ever so kindly to the fervent prayers of my devotees everywhe- -

had to duck down below my laptop for a sec - someone seems to have thrown something. As I was saying, why am I back? Well of late I've found myself showing sections of my blog to a few people. And, as we all know, when first we step down that very long and winding road marked Nostalgia Lane, we find it hard to turn back - indeed, having taken a few steps along the path, we turn around, looking towards the present, only to see that our point of departure has been obscured, blocked from our view by twists we've taken without even the slightest awareness. When we reach this point, inevitably we say "perhaps if I keep going, I'll find my way out of this."

The past is a seductive thing, filled with former glories and despairs, triumphs, victories, failures and losses - and the boring bits are where the rollercoaster that is emotion comes in. Some of the most vivid memories arise from silly little chemical reactions.

To return to task: Having shown my blog around a tad, I remembered more and more how much I'd enjoyed writing in the past, and how I'd sometimes felt such a sense of accomplishment. I remembered, too, that invigorating feeling of having the fingers move across a keyboard, and watching words almost miraculously appear on screen. It is creation in the truest sense of the word - and yet it is also the most fallacious, for a cynical man would say all I do is rearrange pre-exisiting words in a manner which I, for some reason, find pleasing.

But no matter. Going back over what I have written in the past, I found some of it to be quite wonderful, to me at least! Other stuff was, of course, singularly trashy in nature - poorly written, and even more poorly conceived. Such is the folly of youth!

I resolved, then, to start writing again, for any talent or gift, God-given, should be excercised. Whether the supreme arrogance and self-assurance of the preceding sentence is justified remains to be seen.


So I'm back! Stay tuned.



I leave you, my hypothetical reader, with this. Try and find the meaning within, because there is one!



A vestment of verses
A garment of gaiety
A homunculus, a hearse -
A facade, hiding frailty.