Confusion is reigning in the House of Stigmum.
Or it was.
Perhaps it still is.
I was going to take a rest from blogging last week when I was rudely interrupted by Stiggers wanting to share our rent arrears news.
I was going to take a rest because I didn't know how to carry on with this.
Pre eviction the blog was about my eviction. About my eviction and all the things that fell into that; mental health, politics, spirituality, benefits, all kinds of things.
Still, there was a purpose. Will this person, me, get a council flat?
We know the answer now don't we, so why carry on?
I don't want to tell you what I'm plotting and planning. For the simple reason that pre eviction I told you all I plotted and planned and met with no success for any of it.
Perhaps that's why I came back to talk about stopping smoking. I had to do something and flipping succeed goddammit.
So yeah, I've no point of focus anymore. I could write about anything, anything at all, but what?
This weekend I went to church and read a newspaper. Do I write religion or do I write politics?
I took my son to the Chinese New Year celebrations in Trafalgar Square. He also had a friend over to play. Do I talk about cultural highlights in the capital, or about parenting?
I have no comments to guide me at all. When I wrote before, I wrote for myself, it didn't matter.
Something has changed.
I can ask, do you ever feel like this? Do you ever feel this confusion when you are writing?
I can ask but no-one will respond.
Which tells me I should just keep on going, writing about whatever I like, in whatever form l like until such time, I dunno, I get a job or something.
Trust in me
Why I am I thinking Jungle Book?
Because we're playful
Who knew ey, who knew?