Just Another Day

The reason you don't see me on this blog very often is because I am essentially a private person. I lack the desire to constantly announce myself, or to feel that what I am thinking on any given day is more important or more poetic than what anyone else feels.

Do I desire to create great works of art? Yes, in my own way. I am a great lover of literature with a big "L" and I posses a multitude of books. The written experience, both as a writer and a reader, is intrinsic to my existence. Despite the range of my accomplishments I still wake every day with the aim to write.

So here I am, filling up the page as best I can. Need more coffee. Hell, I need to eat. Writing seems to exist in the margins of my life, and every now and then I finish something, an essay or an article, and I can pat myself on the back for a few moments.

Right now I am working on a review fo Frieze Magazine, possibly something new for Artillery, and themes for various exhibitions yet to be given the green light. In the back of my mind there are always some stories, maybe a poem or a play that I would like to attempt, if I could just find a more permanent source of income.



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