So i caved in to the narcissism of blogging.
the amount of lines i have written and deleted suggest to me that perhaps i didnt have anything to blog about afterall.
Its just that i'm worried. What have i done here? (really not much) Why did i choose such a drippy title? (Its all about Freud and Lacan. Everything always is) What if I think of a better one next week? (I suppose I'll change it) What if I decide not to post random ranmblings but poems or novel chapters? What if in the search to write something truly world shattering, I write nothing at all, except metafictive garbage? (well, that would be a wonderful illustration of how life is)
I never realised a blog could be so stressful.
