Saturday, May 21, 2016

The Ghosts of Spaniards Past

So here we are, one decade old.

I'm coming out of a 26 hour power cut that feels as metaphoric as it was literal. I feel wrung out.

I composed a post in my head in the early evening yesterday when I was still optimistic and thought that the power would be back in an hour or two. Sadly, that post, along with my brains, has been composted. I no longer recall what I might have wanted to say.

But here's a thing I must celebrate: the sheer bloody - mindedness of this blog and how it's survived all the shinier attractions of facebook, twitter and tumblr makes me preen a bit.

( Can one preen while being bloody - minded? I don't know the etiquette for this situation.)

As for the rest, I've shown myself like an annual ghost but I can't guarantee further appearances.

When I started this blog, I sensed that I was on the brink of terrible and wonderful things. At that time, words and the people who dealt in them, were my refuge.

Ten years on, I can feel the wheel turning and though I can spot the terrible times in the near distance, I don't know if they're accompanied by the wonderful or I don't have the ability to recognise it if I saw it.

This time, there's an absence of words. I don't know what might replace them.

So, I guess what I am doing is spinning my imminent absence in one more way.

If you're reading, hello and thank you.

Spaniard out.