I have lost all desire and it appears ability to write anything that requires a word processor. To use what may be the most used cliché in blogging: I have all of these ideas until I sit down in front of the computer. So instead of starting and finishing the process with the computer, it shall be the end point of the process. The start point will be a new notebook – exercise book. One of many, a countless, immeasurable legion of notebooks – exercise books that have been bought over the years and then only used for a few pages before being discarded. In 10 years only one notebook – exercise book (because they are always cheap with increasingly flimsy cardboard covers) has ever been finished and that wasn’t filled with anything but drug induced pseudo-intellectual maxims, alienation and ideas that relied just as much on their layout as the words that they were made up of. Perhaps filling an exercise book with solid text is a task that is beyond me?
Since sometime late Friday night or maybe early Saturday morning I have thought about nothing but boredom and regret. Life has progressed on autopilot, activities have been completed but there has been no real conscious thought because in the back of my mind turning over are ideas about boredom and regret. It has meant that life has had an unreal and detached quality to it. It is frustrating because despite all of this thinking I am no closer to an answer nor even sure than an answer exists. I would like one even if it is just to keep it to myself – for sharing the answer with the person who started this thinking may be interpreted as weird, creepy or just plain misunderstood. But also because the of the very real chance that the answer whatever it may be would be unsatisfactory.
This is the best I can do right now.