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putting it down for posterity and other things

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it's been so long since i posted anything i've forgotten my password, and the insult is that now i can't just reset it, i have to get in via a backdoor–my twitter account–which i hardly ever use either, but i can get in that way. so i am here.

i've been getting the national post for free for the last 30 days and there are some that will say that i should because it's crap, but there is something comforting about reading a newspaper, turning the awkward broadsheet pages to read the take of other people. hard news is the perpetual body count and natural disaster. this isn't quite so square edged. i took a bit of umbrage to see conrad black to be taking up a lot of column inches with vague disparaging references to those who landed him in his current situation and likeminded individuals. so be it. at least he's writing something.

one article that heartened me was one written by author who had finally completed and published a book that took some 10 years or more to write. she wrote of inability to stay with the committment enough to get words on the page consistently, of writers' block, of withering desire and distractions, of wandering purpose and life getting in the way. preaching to the converted she was to me, though i hardly consider myself to be in her class or of the ilk of any one who calls themselves an author. i've made the promise to myself over and over to put down a few words every day, just to disappoint myself just as often. it used to be something i saw as a purposeful exercise to work myself to a point where i might consider something more ambitious, but it appears this is as grandiose an accomplishment as i can muster, when i muster it.

don't get me wrong, writing is never far from my thoughts. words are forming and moving, morphing and accumulating as i edit them in my head to become the latest blog post. the trick is to extract these wonderfully crafted bits from my head, and i rarely ever do because i have severe case of followthrough-itis. i even had a dream last night in which i was working on the perpetual blog post in my head. everything else was foreign, strange and surreal. that was the only thread of realism in the whole thing.

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About d.

a practical dreamer, a wanna be artist, a dabbler in writing, photography and whatever other shiny thing catches my fancy

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