Blogaphobic: Fear of Blogging; fear of exposure; of baring one's soul; of bringing light to bear...
Barely keeping it together;
The unbearable weight of one's own thoughts - circular, familiar, predictably self-absorbed.
Unfulfilled? Under-nourished?
Underestimated.
Mis-understood.
Are mundane neuroses worth the ink it takes to write them? Or the watts it takes to start the computer?
Is there anyone listening anyway?
Will this blog hang out there, an empty echo of self expression?
Thoughts ejaculate... effused and embalmed in bits and bytes...
Ultimately alone yet intimately embraced
Freed once more, I linger in the ritual post-coital embrace, returning to the final posting with self-satisfaction and completion, my truth finally revealed.
Suddenly, readership is irrelevant.
Complete self-expression attained, I am able once again to move on.
posted by Mindfull at 2:38 PM
3 Comments:
I doubt that you are misunderstood or underestimated - your writing too well describes the essential loneliness of the human condition for that.
Fred
Fred, you are too kind. Thanks for the strokes. Most people around me have never read any of my writing so I'm not so sure that they really do understand. But it's so nice to know that you do...
PH
That's nice - I'm glad. Having just read your piece about the forest, I think we have a lot in common. There are times when I crave the musty smell of damp leaf litter, the queer half light and the vivid greens of a forest at dusk - greens so strong they tug at your eyes, just as the scents of soaking earth and sphagnum do the nose. Somehow, we both know these things, and the people with boomboxes don't.
Spending a Sunday among the rocks and woods straightens out the wound up spring inside me.
I'll send you a woodland photograph by email.
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