I am lamentably late with my foray into the world of blogging. So much so that I fear everything I write and comment upon may already have been observed by any number of anonymous bloggers across the world over. However, I worship at the altar of Procrastination along with the rest of my student brethren and it is to this deity I devote these words.
A heap of broken images. Alas, these five words are not of my own craft, but those of the inimitable, incomprehensible and downright intoxicating TS Eliot, a figure close to my heart as a student of Literature. Modernism is consuming my life. James Joyce, I salute you, but how I wish I could write a dissertation on Biff, Chip and Kipper, those bastions of literature! How I yearn for the days when fantastical adventures were concluded in 15 pages, illustrated spectacularly and easy to read! Sometimes in my idle musings when I've lost most of my concentration I like to imagine Biff and Chip having fantastic, historical adventures with Stephen Dedalus. This is probably idle fantasy, but I like to hope that when I return to the page, I notice a paragraph I hadn't previously, beginning with the line, 'Biff, Chip and Stephen found a Magic Key...'
As I sit here alone in the aesthetically pleasing paradise that is Sheffield, with only Sky Plus and my criminally slow laptop for company, I begin to think about things that I would normally only think about in that weird period before sleep when you're lying in bed and it seems as though all there is in the world are your own thoughts. Just me? Maybe I need a Pensieve. And a magic wand. Significant obstacles, but not insurmountable. Give me time. In the absence of a Pensieve of my own, I will collate my diverse thoughts on to this blank white nothingness in preparation for future detailing:
Lanark.
Tevez.
Facebook.
Spooks.
21.
Original Pirate Material.
The centre-left.
Olives.
Interrailing.
Norway, minus Slartibartfast.
Facial hair.
A contents page of my current psyche. Enjoy.
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