After a conversation I had with a journalist yesterday – a person whose opinions I value highly – as well other private conversations I absolutely treasure, I have decided that I shall no longer continue to post public poetry or writings for the moment.
I need to sort out my private life before I do anything else.
This will require the greatest concentration and effort on my part.
Writing parallel to that process would not be in good faith any more.
Where change could not take place, and was frozen by an impassive – where not impressive – lack of collaboration on the part of others, I think an argument could be made in favour of my going public – quite out of desperation – re the difficult situation, specifically the lack of physical affection, in my life.
But if I am now to contemplate that such change can take place, and the reason it can is because I am feeling empowered and finally proactive enough in myself to do so, having come to a better understanding of myself and my wants over the writings that have come out of the past five months, then it is no longer easy to justify a free and easy (not easy, but you know what I mean …) public tongue.
I have considered password-protecting the two creative blogs I have written since December, or even deleting them; but I was shown yesterday the zero wisdom in carrying out the latter action of an impulsive nature any time in the near future. Meanwhile, the former would be foolish: the Streisand effect would kick in, if indeed anything of value might actually be missed.
So the blogs as they stand shall remain online.
I, however, will no longer document what happens in my life until I can reasonably attest to its stable and sustainable way of seeing, doing and being.
I hope you all understand me in this, and appreciate the real love I have sensed out there whilst I have reached this point in my existence on this rock.
And if understanding is difficult to come by, please accept that my real love and affection for those I most treasure – and have done so for years – is far greater than any desire I have for continued misery to be documented continuously, even where (perhaps) an argument could be made that some kind of art was being developed.
So be gentle with me, when you judge my actions.
See you all on the other side, right?