It seems I've made a bit of a mockery of this blog's title of late.
While I don't have the hubris to think that I have been noticeable by my absence, I do have several perfectly good excuses for changing the title to 'Frantic mind, empty page'. Those that know me are most likely aware of the main reason why I've not been here in a while. The loss of a good friend has a very final way of driving you inwards. The irony here is that I have developed a wider lexicon for writing, however, I pray that portion of my writing vocabulary remains unwritten in for a long time to come.
Grief is something I've explored before, but never in so intense and immediate a fashion. Gayle and I grieve in markedly different ways and reconciling these has proved challenging to say the least. I've ridden the highs and lows of both that aching void where a friend used to be and the tearful joy of memories. A vast range of emotional baggage has been spread across the bedroom floor or my life, to be picked through at moments of weakness.
Given the recent emotional tumult, it's no wonder we've experienced vast torrents of liquid sunshine of late. Pathetic fallacy has never been so well fed. Even back when we still had a dog, the oppressive misery that is British Summertime, was weighing ever greater on my increasing dissatisfaction with my current career.
We really are talking the perfect storm of crap over these past few months.
All of which, I guess, is why it's so important I get my arse back into gear on this tiny portion of the web. I've wittered on before about the catharsis behind writing, but never for the way it truly regulates my emotions and my sanity. We're not talking relief - a balm for my sins - but rather a necessity.
Destiny? Fate? An excuse not to iron a work shirt? Perhaps.
Stay tuned...
