This is a old fashioned diary, not a blog really, because an old fashioned diary was a splurge of inner thoughts to an imaginary person, where as I think now days a blog is a planned piece of writing written for the public or a specific audience. If I plan this I cease up, I have nothing to say that’s important enough, where as if I splurge out myself on the page I can just keep going forever.
Its a system of my condition apparently, this splurging, temporal lobe epilepsy gives one a need to splurge out the thoughts on paper, as well a experiencing god and being obsessed with religion, any religion, I’m not fussy, as long as it’s got a god or two in it. The condition is also thought to give you a lack of sex drive, this I haven’t noticed, if anything I don’t get enough good sex but then different people have different ideas of good I suppose. Perhaps I should date a vicar.
Tonight I’m playing another gig with the Rude Mechanicals in South London. Might try some tarot reading maybe. I’ve found I do this best when i’m drunk.
i’ll also be selling my Biro Beasts. This is because I’m in desperate need of money at the moment, and drawing monsters is one of the few things I can do easily it seems. There are a lot of half formed beasts in the corners of the mind, though I suppose in an old fashioned diary I would just draw them straight in the book, and it wouldn’t be just a photo of them.
Jo Fisher Roberts 