No Promises

I've said before I'd like to get back to writing, and I would. It just doesn't seem to much develop into actually writing. I've been thinking about it an incredible lot lately, and yet it hasn't happened. I think this is for a number of reasons. Partly it's out of a fear of being misunderstood or taken out of context; I guess maybe I do have secrets worth keeping. Partly it's out of laziness or a lack of a clear subject. I think it's also partly just because what things I do want to express I haven't sorted clearly in my head.

I thought of writing about my holidays, about the scrotes in the neighbourhood I'd seriously like to kick repeatedly in the sack, about friends, about relatives, about "acid tests", about LA, about Olivia, the state of the world, the nature of politics or religion or sex, about just about anything. And I've thought about other entirely different forms of writing that might allow me self-expression while at the same time perhaps alleviating the "pressure" (note the quotes) of my more traditional forms.

And yet. Here we are. And this is all we get. =/