So, another night, another fit of
insomnia.
I love writing, but i have found that
i have fallen into a classic writer's trap, I have spent so much time
reading that i haven’t gotten around to any real writing in ages. I
loathe to say this, but i have gotten rusty.
So this blog is mainly to be the
whetstone for my ability to transfer thought into the written word. I
know, that sounds stupid, those who don’t write, or rather don’t
care to write well find writing the easiest thing in the world and
scribble down a few incoherent sentences or in some cases fragments
and are done with it. I'm not one of those, I am one of the ones
that find writing to be of the most excruciating experiences a person
can have; thats part of what makes it so great. The ability to
express oneself, to actually produce something that is a reflection
of oneself, that is why we do things after all.
I don't really expect people to read
this, its not really for people to read, its for me. My thoughts,
what i feel like doing, what strikes my fancy will be the content.
This means content will be erratic in subject, but what would you
expect from someone who would choose to represent himself as Robin
Goodfellow? So if anyone finds themselves here, i hope you enjoy
whatever I throw on here as much as i enjoyed writing it. or baking
it, who knows.
Painting in "Man Writing" by Oliver Ray
Painting in "Man Writing" by Oliver Ray
