A Note..

I am announcing my attempt to keep a pledge I've made to myself to write on This Beautiful Hunger more frequently. Announcements are a good thing because then if I start slipping into the old 'once a month' styley postings, someone will hopefully notice and give me a kick up my pretty backside.

I've also recently been pondering the nature of this blog following a comment from the lovely and not-exactly-normal-himself, MadPriest about me, namely, that I was, quote, 'as weird as a weird thing on the top shelf in the weird supplies shop.'

I took this as a great compliment at the time, but, as I've been pondering it since, I realise I have been feeling perplexed, as I rarely think of myself as 'weird', or my writing as particularly weird or eccentric or intense or whatever. This might be because I'm me, and me is always going to feel like the most normal thing in the world, and describing my own inner world is always going to feel as natural and ordinary as going to Tesco's, even if I am talking about death, religion, love, loss, obsession, addiction, romance, sexuality, bicycles etc. Perhaps.

I mentioned the comment to Bob, and cited my recent post about a greyhound as evidence for my utter normalness (are dogs not an exceptionally ordinary thing to write about?) but he pointed out that the post wasn't about dogs, it was about crocheting my own greyhound. So it left me confused.

This is something I do find rather fascinating - what we think of as weird and what we think of as normal. I think I find most conventional and supposedly 'normal' ways of life quite freaky, as I don't really relate to a lot of them, and can feel quite out of place. But I wonder how many other people really do either, if they're being honest, or take the time to think about it. After all, the world is, at best, a pretty eccentric place, and at worst, well, it's off its little rocker.

Obviously I don't want to stop writing about what interests and moves me, else, what's the point of writing in the first place? However, my hope is that if I do blog more regularly, perhaps the length of my posts (usually at least a quarter of a mile long) might decrease, and my subject matter might find more new and interesting avenues to travel down.

And here's how normal I am, I'm about to make my tea (rice, veg and egg) and settle down to watch my new favourite tv programme, Top Gear (yes, that programme about cars and things, made by blokes who smoke pipes and have bad Eighties hair) and then, like, have a bath or summat. See. Normal. Me. Ever so.