I feel as though I’ve begun to neglect my blog. I’ve not intended it, I’ve just been busy, or sidetracked. I couldn’t have been too busy as I can’t really think what I’ve done as of late, so I must have been sidetracked. Other things have occupied my mind. I’ve been writing a lot though, or at least thinking about writing. I’ve been planning an epic. I’ve always liked epic poetry, and I feel like here needs to be some grate prose epic for the modern age. I want it to tell Nietzsche’s story of Zarathustra, with the first part describing his journey up the mountain, the second describing his ten years spent on the mountain learning what he learnt and of the death of God, and the third about his decision to come back down the mountain and share his discoveries with man.
I’ve not put much of it onto paper yet, but I’ve just borrowed Thus Spoke Zarathustra from the library for a little, inspiration.
Another thing my mind is far more concerned about than it is about my blog is a woman. I fear I may have fallen for her, not in the way I’d fall for someone in passing, but well and truly fallen for her, and that throws up so many concerns within my mind. I’m just trying to figure out the best course of action without over thinking about it, but I end up overthinking whether or not I’m overthinking.
I won’t go into too much detail, but I know she’ll read this, and I know she’ll ask me, and I know I’ll avoid giving a definitive answer.
Or maybe I won’t post this.
I’m pretty high as I write this, and I’m trying to figure out what I’m trying to say, I think I’m trying to recap, but it’s difficult to figure out what’s important or what people care about. Also, I’m trying to try out a more spontaneous prose. I’m interested in automatic writing. I love Yeats, that’s what sparked my interest. But I’m going off whatever small amounts of topic I had.
There was a night the other day, that I want to write about, I feel I should devote a whole post to it. Or a poem. But it was unique, basically the power went out all night, so we sat around candlelight doing coke of he back of a poetry book. A shitty poetry book I should add, we weren’t doing it off the back of Byron or Keats, it was one of those shitty modern “Instagram poets”.
I wouldn’t mind writing a post solely on things I detest. As a walked back from the mall last night, (I’d had a curry from this Sri Lankan place in the food court, this eggplant curry, I’m addicted,) I walked past these backpackers sat on the sidewalk with a sign that said something to the effect of; “travellers, please help”, and I wanted to slap the hippy pieces of shit all over Banff. I despise these middle class backpacking hippy traveler types. I know like, I’m kind of backpacking too, and I have been backpacking in the past, but there’s these certain types of people you always find in hostels, the ones that dress in what they think are traditional South East Asian pants, but are actually just pyjamas with oriental patterns. They also seem to have a fetish for banjos, or just aimlessly walking round a mall playing a guitar.
Maybe I’m too quick to judge them.
I think that’s it for this post. I digress too much.