The Barnum Effect

Pumpkin flaying has been marvelous fun this year...

The local library hosts an "Open Mic" to tempt us to come along and share our work. I've written stuff and I'm sure I could read some of it, out loud in front of folks, if I put my mind to it. Looking back at the blog for candidates I spot a clear correlation between creativity and sadness. Some of the most hauntingly beautiful things I've written were crafted in the midst of misery. Suffer the rain to appreciate the sun, the trope of the tormented artist. There's too much sun in my current disposition, creating arid times for inspiration. Yet would I wish for a forecast of rain, so that I might be more fertile in my imaginings? I think not. This Mental Health Day, don't suffer alone. #Itstimetotalk Laying down reserves, 4 May 2010 The odd sock that disappears, 10 May 2010 Fettered, 26 May 2010 Retreat, 23 June 2010 A blink reveals, 16 November 2010 Crank the orrery on, 21 December 2010 Folly laid bare, 24 January 2011 Premonition of incip

When I recently mentioned to a friend that I'd resumed blogging he asked me what I was doing to promote the blog. Nothing, I said, I was really just writing it for writing's sake, and I didn't think blogging was particularly fashionable in these days of the twitter ascendancy. We then had a little discussion about popular blogs - I said the trick was to write something that other people were interested in, hence the successful blogs out there on the subject of weddings, interior design, etc. I tend to write about what is happening in my mental space, or about things that interest me. Just very occasionally something that interests me happens to be interesting to other people too. One of my most popular blog entries to date is  Stretch Yawn Faint , it is also (at the time of writing) the top google result for that three word search. Apparently "orthostatic hypotension" is a relatively un-discussed side effect of humans being big stretchy blobs of flesh.

A blank page and a flashing cursor that itches and scritches at the psyche, begging to be booted along the page and be displaced by the developing prose. So I sit here trying to oblige, yet somewhat at a loss as to what should come next. I drift forward in time, moored by my minor hobbies, commitments to family and friends, the toil that pays the bills, and the drudgery of domestic chores. It isn't a bleak existence. It is mildly pleasant and satisfying. A low stress, low risk strategy which will carefully transport me from here to eternity. What about the paths untraveled? The adventures I could have? I could be and do so much more. Why don't I? When did I change my outlook and set my sights so low? I do know the answers to those questions. I am where I am, doing what I do by conscious choice. Divorce and disease. These two daemons brought on my bunker mentality. I've chosen my current location and path. Safety. Security. Comfort. Routine. But what if I were to s

After letting this blog languish for the last couple of years (barring the odd pumpkin flaying post) I find myself drawn to blog again. Initially this blog was started when I was in a "return to work" phase after being off work for some time for breast cancer treatment. I was travelling each week from Leeds where I live to London where I worked (for an american investment bank.) Suddenly being back in the capital where I'd previously lived for well over a decade brought with it plenty of memories. Sadly the sort of memories I was flooded with weren't the joyous ones, but largely ones of my marriage sinking like the titanic, and thoughts of my "wasband" ex. A whole moribund pustular nexus of unresolved trauma. On top of that I felt physically and psychologically fragile from the cancer treatment. I'd been left with lymphedema in my right arm, and the compression garment I wore was painful and acted as a constant trigger of cancer related fears and