A Pinch of Salt

It’s worth noting that I’m not the most public guy. I like my privacy, although often find myself bragging that my life is an open book. You wouldn’t find me on a soapbox or walking around with a sandwich board claiming the ‘End is Nigh!’

Like (I flatter) most writers, I’m smart enough to know that not everyone will share my opinion on things I write about and I share that same fragile ego of other creatives – the constant paranoia which feels much like wandering the playground at school, worrying about whether ‘Jane’ likes me or whether ‘Joe’ is going to pick on me. Putting myself out here in blog form takes a fair bit of talking myself up to do it, but now that I’ve started forcing myself to write posts and keep this website ticking, the act of laying my thoughts on the page has felt really cathartic.

I can’t promise it will be cogent all the time, or even that I’ll make sense as, quite often, my train of thought will run off the tracks, through a small farmhouse and into a nearby lake. But bear with me, there will inevitably be some nuggets of good ideas buried somewhere in the mess of overly-lyrical bullshit that I spew onto these posts.

Before signing off, I should take this moment to reassure the few people who might be keeping track – I will be uploading some segments of new projects shortly! Hopefully. They could probably all bear some editing, but the raw versions will probably be what goes up. Be kind to my naked offspring, the retarded love-children of my ambition and misguided creativity, they may grow up to be big and strong and take over Hollywood (hah!).

Kwaheri, rafiki.


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