Sometimes when I’m reading a book or viewing a piece of art I grip on to a particular line or image until I find myself thinking of an essay title and I cannot let go of the possibilities of publishing an article one day. In my head, that very specific string of words or brushstrokes means everything, and it’ll fascinate me so much that I dream about it the next following days. This blog is my attempt to finally free these jarring, obsessive ideas so that I may move on to the next hit. It’s a strange feeling to feel bullied by your imagination, it beats you up until you give it clarity, size 12 font and perfect footnotes… at leasts that’s how I suffer, I don’t know about anyone else.
When I walked out of my final written exam at University, all my friends danced around like gypsies at the thought of never having to write another essay, or memorise quotes from novels that meant nothing to them. But I was not dancing (particularly not like a gypsie for that matter) and I’ll never forget certain quotes. Sure, I put down my pen when the invigilators told us to, but I wasn’t really finished, I had so much more to say about Lawrence and Hardy, Blake and Coleridge.
You’ll see a range of content on here, from short posts to long essays that have taken me months to get right. It won’t be consistent, because I never force an idea. It forces me.
The Nineteenth Century Revisited 