People have passed. Friends, family, neighbours. Hair has thinned. Pills have been consumed by the thousands. Muscles have ached, teeth been removed.
A new abode, four months after the previous post. Nearby. A library card. Belongings again. Chairs. Mirrors. Vases. A painting, an etching, an engraving. Crockery, porcelain.
The owner of the home a most considerate man soon to be wed again. Paid by the local council.
I skive with dignity. Resources minimal, I have become most frugal with them.
Forgetting, for the moment, that you have somewhat randomly stumbled upon this page as a result of a search for something more meaningful than whatever it was on the previous page that failed to hook your fancy, drink.
On Tuesday afternoons I talk for approximately one hour with a woman about stuff. My stuff, not hers. So I will talk here about other stuff that is not mine. What little stuff I have I share with her so I can only share with you stuff from somewhere else. Maybe you will come here once a week in your endless search for random meaningfulness. I may come here more often, but then that is only to be expected, and my randomness is as meaningful as anyone’s, no? I hesitate to recommend that you pay more regular visits than hebdomadal ones, as I am not prolific. Indeed, you should perhaps not come back at all. It might quite easily bore you to distraction and I am not doing this to attract parties with questionable products and services as sponsors for something that costs nothing and produces nothing and, besides, I like black words on a white background without typographical flourishes and tastefully amusing graphic references to humility and innocence.
So all in all it may seem drably humdrum and blatantly pedestrian, but this is neither a grant proposal nor a pitch for a sitcom and certainly not a promise of great things to come. Just me, writing stuff that I secretly hope no one will ever read but which will be right under everyone’s nose.
I intend no dateline; the chronology shall be self-evident surely. I will attempt to avoid unqualified utterances but I shall be weak, as I am weak. I have weaknesses that are more prevalent than others, but I do have a selection and I have poor control of them. Which is what makes them mine, I suppose. I am strong in weaknesses. Stocked. See? There’s one right there. Do not say you have not been warned.
It is already an interesting exercise as I am addressing you who are not there and if I were in any way decently educated I could probably extrapolate existentially what that might ‘mean’, but luckily for you I am not.
Educated.
Decently.
stockmag 