I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I know I’m a procrastinator. But I have also been heard to say ‘writing is all there is left to do’. And then again, ‘It’s all been said before’. I love to write, and I love knowledge and ideas, especially when they can be combined in complicated yet coherent ways. Synthesis. Equally, I know that truth depends on perspective. So placing letters on a page, however virtual, becomes a rash act. Who will disagree? I’m 60 this year. There’s no need now for me to fear any person’s judgment (even of my spelling), and better still, I know that nobody is looking. To hear me on the internet a person would have to be a very acute listener; there’s so much noise. And advertising is anathema – I’m not going to jump up and down crying ‘look at me! look at me!’. At times in my life I have tried to explain myself, but finally I know that I don’t need to, and that there is nothing worse than to try one’s best, and still be misunderstood. So what will follow is just how it seems to me.
There is an ulterior motive, but an exploration of that will have to wait a while, until I have gained confidence, made a habit of writing, and seen a body of work emerge. There is sometimes a necessity in concealment, privacy, even secrecy.
The act of writing is a pleasure to me and I am a true hedonist. I’m shy, so I am happy to be be my own and only audience, and as to speak aloud brings new meanings to poetry, I’m hoping some new meanings will emerge for me when I write. Ideas become tired from batting around in my head for so long. A friend said to me once that we seem to come to the truth repeatedly, and then forget it repeatedly. Maybe writing it will help me remember a truth.
Change is inevitable. Time moves, meaning shifts, my own reluctant bias swings around. I hope I remain open to the wealth of material in the world. We have access to ever more information, and need to find ways to sift it. Diarists often say that they recognise their former selves in past entries, and in my past of words, sometimes I have been pleased by my own coherence. Let’s hope I can generate more of that before my cognitive powers decline. I’ve never yet been a creature of habit, but now I hope to form just a few; a pattern to make sense of the future.
My punctuation and grammar may be erratic, or better, idiosyncratic. We all have our areas of pedantry. But I intend to go with the flow and not try to be too controlling. I love the ellipsis, the question mark and the dash. My voice somehow needs that uncertainty.
Inspiration is there, all around. As words can have many meanings, so photographs can capture the visible world only imperfectly. Maybe I can find a way to use words and images together to mean more. The world of ideas is fleeting, and I have sometimes been tempted to think that just to have one a day might be enough. But isn’t a search for more personal meaning at a time when my worldly roles are loosening a most valid venture?