I think I should purge this blog of all the old entries. And I need a return to writing on a more frequent basis. I think I use this blog, more than anything else, as an alternate memory.
The past few days have consisted of certain events, hardly extraordinary, that have greater drawn my attention to my current state. It's not to say that my focus has been entirely averted from cardinal thoughts, but to say that it has been given bifocals.
At this point most would shake their heads in discontent at my past efforts (I'm not so sure I should honor my actions as 'efforts') and say that I should have done better. However I can name only a small number who spoke out of benevolence and not of disdain. The latter is turning me into a sort of misanthrope.
Last night I read a short essay by George Orwell entitled "Why I Write" (from a collection of essays of the same title). To this day I have never read a collection of words I found to be more veritable and more consistent with any one of my emotions. It simply epitomizes "I feel the exact same way!"
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