I wish I’d started doing this earlier. I have always wanted a nook of my own in the web where I can pursue the phantasms of my fractured mind whilst nursing the delusion that someone in the world does appreciate what I write.
All melancholy aside, I am doing this to hone my creativeness with the English language, which has always been my love. What better way to start than by joining the ranks of those who indulge in the essence of life — emotions, sentiments, impressions, all that is gloriously abstract and philosophical… — those who cannot survive without giving vent to their passions on paper, those who struggle, or who have realised that those struggles would be more worth it if recorded in words and shared, people of genius who have been bludgeoned by life, and as such have become altered in a way not even they themselves can fully comprehend…
When I say people of genius I mean those who have broken, or been broken beyond their own horizons — they see through the deceptive facade of life, they can step in the shoes of a third-party observer and observe, even discipline themselves from such a vantage-point, they have well-trained alter egos which serve to sharpen them even more, and
I have been wasting too many words describing myself. (cough, but it’s true) I will have to be more vigilant next time. Artists do not circumlocute. (or is that a malapropism?)
At any rate I cannot end this without acknowledging Mr. Anarchy of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys, since it was his article I was reading this afternoon that led me to create a blog of my own.
Cheers to individualism!
Now let the strings of the soul move these earnest fingers!
Melancholia 