It feels strange, putting down words of contemplation for contemplation, to preserve memory and musings, maniac thoughts that wander from the darkest parts of my mind to the forefront before dashing back into obscurity; those I hope to catch and trap here before they do so; tricky things that they are, for my own amusement and remembrance. To write something for myself is something I haven’t done in years, a collection of journals of various sizes, shapes and make all lay somewhere in the labyrinth of my room being very productive as breeders for dust bunnies. Though mostly due to my waning attention span for such things, my inability to keep track of the journals, the mundane existence I have that leaves quite little worth remembering when it occurs though tiny, flickers of eternity I’d love to have frozen and put down have passed me by; I’ll muse on that later, but most importantly of all, my horrendous handwriting. I am in possession of a chicken scratch that leaves the fowls themselves puzzled as to the content of the strange markings too fluid for cuneiform but too static for calligraphy, too eccentric for hieroglyphics and altogether incomprehensible to everyone including myself. As such, journals were left lying about, dejected and denied their purpose for the sake of my vanity; but this…this is another opportunity for my memories, words and thoughts.

As I mentioned above, my life is very mundane and repetitive to a fault, so day to day updates on my studies, occupation, eating habits etc, etc, will not be found here as mine is a routine existence that bears no reason to be marked here save for a few crystalline moments that I might be persuaded to share at a later date; for now onward with the prologue.

What may be found here is this: my thoughts, the lucid vespers that follow me to the waking world, schemes, dreams, writhing machines, poetry and prose should I be inspired to write and bold enough to bring it here, though why I need be bold is questionable. Who would see this, other than me? For those that stumble here and choose to read, many thanks, for those that leave a comment or two, I thank you as well; though I would rather, unless explicitly asked for, not have analysis of my person or writings here, though I sincerely doubt you would attempt to do so. There isn’t that much to analyze. I come here without pretence, I am myself, write how I write, and often lose myself to my thoughts and my words tend to follow it; on such occasions I need a sturdy kick to the shins to bring my mind back to my body; though the breadcrumbs are occasionally placed at irregular intervals so it takes time.

As it is, this is a place that is ultimately for me to put down what I feel inspired to write; whatever whims dictate it, though I may start on one subject I will nigh invariably, finish the entry writing on something else entirely and the two may be connected by the barest of threads visible only to my wandering mind; the transition may be so abrupt it could very well startle me. I know that it will happen, I’ve seen me do it, and should others feel that my musings are worth glancing over occasionally, they will as well. Now, I leave to dream; and mayhap I’ll put down what I remember on the morrow.

From now until the end of me, I am simply,

-Muse