A Farewell to Psalms.

As Mrs Clibrig said to me on our honeymoon, "That didn't last very long, did it!"

I've just re-read some of the 170-odd posts I've published.
What a load of self-indulgent crap.

I've finally accepted the fact that the stuff I write is of absolutely no interest to anybody but me. 

Why should anybody should give a fat rat's about how some poor whingeing bastard is experiencing the travails of life while the entire human race is on the ropes being pummeled by climate change and Covid disease? 

Not to mention the devastating conjuction of anglophone leaders - Boris, Scot, Donny - totally unsuited to the challenges of piloting their countries through these looming global catastrophes.

Beats me.

So I'm pulling the plug.

This is not an act of petulance, but an acknowledgement that I am competing with a very large number of other deluded losers who also apparently think, when everybody else on the planet is doing their level best just to get by, that their views on life could actually be of interest to anybody at all.

I am mortified by my assumption that I could add anything to the sum of human knowledge, or express anything that hasn't been expressed by wiser minds countless times before.
I am profoundly embarrassed.

My decision to scuttle off into the undergrowth and hide has been partly precipitated by the cringe of self-recognition that I experience when I read some other deluded chancer's attempt at literary expression in a blog. 

I mean, who really gives a flying fuck what they, or by extension, I, think about the state of the planet or about life on it?
And, in any case, publishing one's opinions is analogous with lying on one's back with one's genitals exposed, and nobody enjoys the threat of being kicked in the 'nads.

But mainly, my decisions is prompted by reading the works of art that are Jim Crace's novels. 

Like having sex with Sharon Stone (I should imagine,) nothing else will ever be good enough again.

So that's it from me. I'm outa here.

I shall lay my trite little essays to rest in the dark recesses of my computer, where they can moulder away quietly and unnoticed.

Bye from Ben.

                                        

P.S. 

If you have accidentally encountered the mouldering corpse of my erstwhile blog, I apologise and thank you for your interest.

May the foreskin be with you.