I thought it was about time I committed to writing on a regular basis, something that would challenge the pre-suppositions I carry with me on everything from breathing to working! A space where, for reasons of sanity, I could write in any manner I choose without censure or sanction in a place where the rules, or at least some of them, could be tested and pushed, in a manner entirely of my own making. A place where freedom of expression can be entirely mine, and where random thoughts and observations could become a part of my existence. Stream of consciousness in a place where, should others choose to do so, I can express myself in some measure other than in completing the required prose in the required manner. A paradise? Well, probably not; but at least a place where I create my own dystopia and live to witness the resurrection of a semblance of pleasure in attempting to restore a sense of equilibrium.
Does any of this make sense? Maybe not... maybe the existentialist in me is suffering, and the nihilist is whining! No matter... here I am, and the possibilities are endless!
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