Unstylish council

Since I’m having a hard time writing, I’m going back to basics, entering into a Homo Ludens stage, so I’m going to gas-up this blog. It’s not so much Julia Cameron’s “Morning Pages,” more of “Write it, damn you, what else are you good for?” or following in the spirit of Montaigne's “Essays.”

Since I’ve always understood the world through writing, I’m hoping if I just write, I’ll come out the other side of this pandemic not unscathed, but neither the worse for wear, either. And I know I’ll be writing about my own particular experience, but it will hopefully reveal what I share with everyone else: the experience of being human. There will be no plan for what I write, it will be like the encrustations of a coral reef. I’m simply going to taste words and language, weigh words and language, try out words and language — just basically cause some mischief.

I’m not promising that what I write will be profound, entertaining, interesting, lucid, meaningful, erudite, necessary, important, sexy, insightful, or witty. You can’t promise such things. But I also can’t promise that it won’t be any of those. Life is very unpredictable, as we can see right now, and writing is like that, too.

And I’m not paying any admission. It’s all free. Come down this rabbit hole with me, if you wish. If not, well, go and paint your roses red.

If you do decide to enter my blog, don’t expect a Virgil to guide you. If anything, you should tip Loki and the trickster spirit at the door.

In fact, I’m going to shut up now and leave you in the capable hands of the wonderful Scottish poet WS Graham:

“Shut up. Shut up. There’s nobody here. If you think you hear somebody knocking On the other side of the words, pay No attention.”