This did not go so well

I was going to write something tonight.

Because I felt I couldn’t come back after six months with something so thoroughly downbeat as the last post, and just leave it at that - or you, adorable, sage and dexterous reader, would think “cripes, he’s gone a bit shocking”, or even (bless you to the point of sycophantic weeping) be vaguely concerned.

As an aside, what is slightly misleading about the previous post is it makes out that when I was younger I was having a whale of a time as this dynamic free-spirited creative force – when in fact, while yes, my lifestyle was somewhat (but not unrecognisably) different, and all manner of produce did indeed issue forth from my furtively over-active brain and fingers, all the while I was still constantly bewailing the loss of youth, the awfulness of the encroaching world and the certainty of a grey, empty future. In fact, from roughly about the age of 17, and in fact that is what drove quite a lot of the ‘produce’.

I’ve always had a tendency to long-nights-of the-soul about nothing. I look back and think “Jesus wept, you were 19 or 24 or 31 – if you’d just spent less time brooding about what you thought you’d lost or were about to lose or would never have, you might actually have appreciated what you'd gained, got and might yet attain - and enjoyed yourself more.” And of course, I’ll look back on now, when I’m 45 or 60 or 79 and think exactly the same thing. One does grow and change over the years, but there are core elements of personality that remain, and this recurrent wan, nostalgic pessimism, unfortunately, appears to be one of the less palatable ones.

So I was going to write something tonight as I thought I’d better follow that last post up with something light or positive or at least interesting and engaging, but now it’s too late to write anything really, except more of this guff, and that has only gone and given me the ennui.

Mmn. *Sigh*.

This has not gone so well.