Writing is hard work. In a throwback to simpler times when blogs were mushrooming all around; improper prose and lack of a distinct narrative dint get you a rap on the knuckles like it does today. In the formative years this blog subsisted via that inexhaustible fountain of teeny angst, ‘I saw that girl’ and/or ‘I felt that emotion’. In six years as I evolved from a patchy mustache gent to a semi-mustachioed one, most angsty issues went out of focus and for the past two years I’ve stopped acknowledging their existence. For there is no more ‘this stuff grinds my gears.’ They’ve been sheathed by accelerating realities and fallibilities.
2013 is a new year.
Older and wiser.
Time to try something, anew or to renew.
The pages are still blank,
but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there,
written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.