Stare into the Abyss, Uncategorized

An Exercise in Self-Indulgence

“…to my mind writing about oneself is much the same as pleasuring oneself in bed, pen in hand, spilling wasted ink over paper.”

Several times over the years I have attempted to keep a journal. I have never particularly liked the process. Whenever I want to put truth to paper, the stark facts as they are and how they’ve happened, I am either unable to be so hard on myself as to face myself in my own hand, or the facts are so mundane they are not worth recording. An example: the depravity of my thoughts when so inclined to moments of debauchery as my proclivities are want to at times, cannot be matched by any works of de Sade, Rochester or more currently the pathetic excuse for eroticism, E. L. James. I fear that should I take to writing novels that express the desires of my sex, they should be so shocking they would naturally be banned, and I locked up. Further, that the ‘Taboo’s’ of fetishism, provided by incredibly poor pornography do little to satisfy my appetite. This is a topic I am cautious on writing more, even if it is one the majority of the world is interested in.. By stark contrast a diary entry stating: ‘Today I watched such and such a movie and found it dull’, or ‘I came across a beautiful spot to watch the sunset and daren’t move less I, by my own action, disturb the serenity of the miasma of colours awash before me’…humdrum, boring, nonsense.

So why now and why here?

Recently my life feels very much out of my control. I do not believe in fate or luck but if either exist I have caught a bad case of the worst of it. I am struggling with near destitution, my new occupation, which should cover the previous problem, holds no personal fulfilment or development and lowers a person to the position of a mangy dog, my own four animals have suffered poorly from the stress of moving and three died within days of each other, I have been exhausted and looking into the mirror yesterday morning I noticed a huge amount of grey in my hair. I do not care much for vanity, but this is a signal that my body is rebelling against me.

Thus this creative outlet. I do write occasionally  online on different platforms and websites. More I write on paper. This site will be a centre point for my works and a voice for my thoughts when they come to me, whether I like it or not.

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