I think I’m writing this to find out why I want to write this

Before I’ve written a word I’m already torn. Between

Writing totally honestly, authentically, as things emerge, writing for me, writing as it comes


Writing for others; editing & improving, modulating my language for an audience, for impact, to achieve a clear goal

I think I’ll opt for the former, for now.

I used to write a lot of diaries. I was never one for “Dear diary, today I ate porridge and went for a walk”. Writing in a diary always made more sense to me as a futile attempt at trying to understand what’s happening in me a little better, and so, perhaps the wider world.

Something about hitting enter and seeing a fresh new paragraph appear - the previous being committed to some permanent digital narrative - puts me at some ease that yet another piece of me exists for eternity in the digital ether.

I wonder what purpose this …blog… I’m going to call it a diary, might serve.
I want to resist the temptation to decide how it’ll be useful before actually trying it.

I just wrote a juicy heading 
that was probably about to give this post some shape & appeal. Then I deleted it because I think I’m going allow myself to be sleepy. And maybe even sleep.

There’s a restlessness in me. There has been for a while. Something pretty deep. Inspired. Sometimes urgent, but also kinda peaceful. I want to respond to something. Many things. I feel like I’m sitting at computers too much, but they’re such a tangible way to record things, learn things, connect to things, network — and then there’s all the messages, which I don’t want to ignore. And I don’t want the most interesting ones to stop coming to me because the people who have most time for me read this post and decide in future not to act on a desire to shoot me a funny/ interesting/ loving/ something message.

A poem

for bed

think I got out of bed in the middle of the night a few weeks ago to write this

Even more important to me


How much I put on my plate


How much I




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