It was reading Murakami, and particularly Sputnik Sweetheart and Norwegian Wood at the start of the holidays that got me thinking about writing again. There are lines in both books about reasons for writing, and they connected with me so strongly. For effectively it was all about that idea of writing to make a sense of oneself in the world. It’s an idea that I also talked about so long ago, and I had forgotten about it somehow.

So it was good to be reminded about that. And I did start writing again, and it was fun. Being fascinated by the whole process of creation though, I am always thinking about the publication stage, and I think we all of us who make things need that stage to feel fulfilled. This is where the Internet is so great of course, for everyone can publish and be damned. You can argue that’s a blessing in disguise of course, but hey, the search for the single gem whose unique sparkle you personally love the most in the tumult of Aladdin’s Cave is at least as important as the finding. Right?

Anyway, I started publishing some bits of writing on another blog, but then I figured what the hell… why not just keep everything here. I mean, I have no idea why different people read this. Some maybe want to read about Pop music. Some maybe want to just know what I’m doing from day to day (hi Mom!). Some maybe just like it that some days there’s someone grouchier and grumpier than them. Hell, maybe some people even like the writing. It’s a strange world, after all.

So I’m gonna start posting some of those pieces here. I’m thinking of it like an electronic sketchbook for words. They probably only make sense in my own head, but what the heck…