Over the past few weeks the old depressive tendency has dipped to a new low wherein the more apposite term might be ‘desolation.’ By that I mean the unpleasant sensation of feeling like an empty vessel which has nothing to offer to itself or life in general, and the fallout from this has been the seeming loss of connection with the blog.
I could, of course, have knuckled manfully down and written a few posts on various subjects which I would normally write about, but there would have been a vital ingredient missing. I’ve always strongly believed that in order to have any worth, a blog of this kind must be more than merely the relaying of facts; it needs to factor in other elements such as humour, irony, sarcasm, deep reflection, outrage, and even the occasional foray into the enigmatic and the absurd. I need to do that for my own sake, but such elements arrive instinctively off the top of my head, and the feeling of desolation raised a firm barrier against them. Somebody once told me that it wasn’t so much what I said that she found appealing, but the way in which I said it. Quite so, and that’s why the connection seemed to have been lost.
So will it come back? I don’t know yet, but I hope so. Times change and the mood of the moment is ever in a state of flux, so maybe or maybe not. And I do realise that while my writing might be of substantial importance to me, it matters not a jot to anybody else. Nevertheless, it seemed only fair and considerate to offer this little explanation to those few who have done me the honour of checking in now and then. I hope they understand that I do appreciate and value their interest. Here’s looking at you, kids. (See what I mean?)
2 comments:
We're glad you're back. And it's both what you say and the way you say it that we find appealing. Best wishes to you, Nancy and Chris
Too kind as ever, Nancy. Thank you. It occurs to me that when I do finally shuffle off this mortal coil, your corner of the world might be an appropriate location for a little haunting. But it will be gentle stuff - definitely no lopping of heads. (Too squeamish.) And I wonder whether you might mention to M'lady Clever Clogs that I haven't forgotten about the artefact. It's just a matter of finding the energy and body heat to search among the chaos that is the cold spare bedroom.
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