I’ve tried many blogs. Some to show off my work (yawn), one or two to release the burning emotional trauma or inspiration of the day (now dismantled, having regained some sense of shame), and a couple of short lived attempts at a humorous look at life. My most read blog honoured the mighty umbrella, back in the days when I cared about that sort of thing.
But this blog is to be different… I tell myself that to stop me giving up right now.
There’s a terrible temptation, I find, with a blog. I take lecture notes for one of my livings and I like writing. It helps me to put my thoughts in order, it gives them a form so I can evaluate, confirm and edit them, inside and out. I frequently start that novel I should have in me (we all have one?) but abandon it as soon as I realise it’s shit – I can’t write creatively for toss. I write long stupid texts when a hello would do, I write long letters I’ll never send when I need to talk to someone but find communication difficult, I turn my sketchbooks into diaries (they never start out that way, but I get struck and have to write things down and my sketchbooks are usually on my person).
And this is the problem, the temptation. Every blog descends into a barrage of diary entries – an overanalytical tirade on the obsession of the day, the pain the pain, the joy the joy, the intrigue, the adventure, the excitement, stagnating potential and melodramatic insight. And this one could easily go that way too, and perhaps in some ways it should, when the new sphere I’m entering demands. But please, Trish, no more handwringing. No more worrying. Onward.
I’m limiting the subject matter. This blog is not to complain about something in the news, sort out my relationship problems, evangelise about Bjork, wrestle with my self-doubt or congratulate myself on my little absurdities. This blog is going to be about Gwen. Me and Gwen, and Rich, and the big blue sea. One day, if she goes somewhere interesting, you might even want to read it.
Gwen’s a boat. I know nothing about boats. That’s all you need to hear for now.