Who The Fuck Do I Resonate With

Linda Brogan 1976

I’ve got this amazing platform. This amazing idea. I just need to find someone that gives a fuck. I’ve also got a really amazing voice that has been well trained for several years. Is it too fucking trained?

I know that Huffington Post is not really the platform for me. Or is it? Is it if I let myself just free-fall like now? I know there are loads out there like me. Do they actually read the Huffington Post? Do they read anything?

I don’t believe a word I read. I’m extremely self-absorbed. My life means the most to me. What I have learnt. What I have suffered. Who I am? Where do I come from? Not the big question. The smaller question. What makes me up?

Am I the criminal I was as a kid? The A student I was as a kid. The mother. The person who fell in love and left home at 15, to be with him? The person who watched him stabbed to death on her doorstep by his other girlfriend? The person who didn’t go to his funeral? The person who went down the Reno?

Who doesn’t want to be in Goodfellas? Who doesn’t want to be in Studio 54? I will never regret The Reno. Our little basement club. Our wall-to-wall half-caste.

I’m just gonna write every day on this platform and see who is drawn to me. I wonder who will be drawn to me. The same on Twitter. I check it ever night after joining on Saturday. I’ve lost two followers already so I am down to 6.

Oh well. I wonder who will like this. Will anyone like this? Will I ever have any followers? Will anyone ever give a fuck? Do I give a fuck about anyone else? Not really. Not really. I don’t even watch the news.

I was sat in my new flat about 6 months in after my girlfriend left me. Heartbreak wasn’t in it. I’ve got this one chair. Feels like the Star Trek Enterprise and someone else threw a Molotov Cocktail in yet another country and I thought that’s it. I have never watched the news since.

But what I did do that night was reconnect with my guru. Read his lines over and over again from 1989 when I first started doing my four techniques of meditation. Paint a perfect picture, he said. Paint a perfect picture.

I’ve found out as I’ve got older and read things like The Secret and Think and Grow Rich that he was saying that all along. That is what he meant, my guru Prem Rawat www.wopg.com. That’s what he meant. Paint the perfect picture perfectly resonates with these philosophies too. He didn’t mean, Prem Rawat, didn’t mean anything spiritual. He means something completely concrete.

Paint a perfect picture. What does my perfect picture look like? I don’t know. Maybe that is why I am doing my amazing project to find out what my perfect picture looks like. Am I the criminal of my youth? Am I the middle class I wanted to imitate when I was produced at The Royal Court?

I’ve promised myself I will post on Huffington Post every day. I will see where it brings me. I’m quite proud of myself.

Experimentation is everything.

Originally published at www.huffingtonpost.com on September 20, 2016.

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