Blogging…ready or not…here I come!

tightrope

Having had either too much to say…or not enough….for most of my life, I thought 2013 the perfect time to carry on that tradition. So this will either be a blog with very little text – or one with so much it is impossible for the normal person to keep up. Provided that anyone in their right mind will actually try. (or not in their right mind. or any mind at all actually. let it never be said that I am partial to well adjusted people only. A fair and democratic person I am) There has been so much change in my life in the past years, its almost overwhelming to try and pin it down with words. (Which brings to mind an image of struggling butterflies….who comes up with these bloodthirsty hobbies anyway?)

Having also been the recent recipient of strange dreams with people from my past and an equal number of strange memories surfacing at just any old time, I am getting curious. Is this a way of getting me to review and repent the “sins of my past”??, (plenty of past at this age, but ~sigh~ very little sin) something that needs to be addressed and dealt with in my psyche??? Or just a dickensian undigested bit of cheese….
WHAT WHAT WHAT?
I always want to know… and so rarely ever do.
(pause for a moment of wistful sighing and very artistic longing glances out the window)
Taking a purposeful step onto the path of writing something! anything! invariably turns and twists me almost immediately. The view of the castle on the nearby hill is very clear and straightforward. But my path never seems to be. Here we go again…..

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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