Blog fatigue

I read somewhere that people start up blogs, are all gung ho, but then in a few months just lose their mojo. So a look at my postings - a paltry six in September, this is the first in October - seems I've hit the wall. True, I have been busy, but it doesn't take much to dash off a few lines, now does it? And it's not like I am doing this for the amusement of anyone but myself.

But then again, I am doing it for other people - in that this is a public facing diary if I can't just write whatever stuff that comes to my head like I do in my regular diary. Or, ahem (voice deepening) my journal - the old fashioned one kept with pen and ink and a Moleskine notebook (I do have a bit of a Moleskine fetish it has to be said. Have you seen the new Volant range? And the soft cover notebooks - oh yeah, baby, 'get in touch with your softer side') Sorry, drifted off there. Anyway, I made the mistake of re-reading an older diary, and the overwrought stuff within brought a flush of embarrassment to my face. And that was stuff I wrote just a year ago. Hate to look at my teenage diaries.

Anyway, let's get back to the blog; my life filtered, cleaned up and suitable for blog-cast.

I have mentioned before that I live next door to a mental hospital and have on occasion come across some of its patients. Tonight, there was a big black fellow outside the hospital, clinging to a lamppost as if a lover, yelling in a West African accent: 'I didn't kill any individuals' over and over again. And as I came closer swivelling his eyes on me, trying to make me understand that he didn't kill any individuals.

Now, that gives one pause. The Bedlamites I come across are usually rather benign, bumbling around in just their dressing gowns - confused more than anything else. I found myself nodding to this man, though he seemed like he might have killed individuals and maybe even entire villages of people in some child soldiering past in Sierra Leone.