chugga chugga

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Chugging up and down on the train between Ely and London each dayI get lots of idea for writing stuff for this blog and yet it never gets written down. I really need to carry a notepad, get the idea down and then elaborate on it here, in this blog. So much goes through my mind, the older I get the more complex the world seems, yet on another level, the more complexity I see, the more I see that this complexity is held by something so simple as to be absolutely indescribable...

'What are you talking about?' I hear them say... 'what the hell are you going on about?'...

Ah. I can't tell you with my talk talk talk. Lie on your back, on the grass, on the cut, by the Great Ouse, not far from Little Thetford, on a cold Fen night, and look up at the stars...that's it, that is it.

2 comments:

hannah said...

It's a strange thing, this "blogging" lark. Mine started off as a simple diary of repeated attempts at self-improvement, but more standard diarylike entries have crept in and I often find myself wondering who on earth I'm writing the thing for. I think I might experiment a bit with the format soon: maybe do some drawings, or write a series of entries in verse form.

I find the whole phenomenon fascinating, blurring the distinctions between public and private, and providing a platform for millions of egos to just, well, do what egos do. Who'd have thought I'd be interested in the activities of Boris Johnson, or that I could keep such a close eye on my friend Maria, doing a vso in Ghana.

Tim said...

I find my experiences are similar to yours as I get older, Martin.

As far as Blogging's concerned, whilst I secretly hope that someone, somewhere, will read my blog and possibly be interested in bits of it, I write a lot of the stuff for myself.

I dare say I'd have more content to add, were I more 'American' (sweeping generalisation) in my approach and wrote about every boring, self-indulgent detail of my life :)