Yesterday I visited my doctor for a check-up.
As part of the discussion I explained to him that I had started writing a blog that no-one reads, and submitting poetry to magazines for rejection.
“Oh. So was that your thing then? English Lit. and all that?”
Nope. I have a degree in physics and a medal in my sock draw for doing clever money things I choose not to do now for ethical reasons. And a certificate in basic food hygiene.
“Oh. So you’re one of these double-brained types?”
If only it were that simple.
“Oh. What’s the point of writing blogs that no-one reads or poetry that never gets published?”
You’ve got me there. Because I’m good at it?
“Good at what? Writing or not being read?”
Both. I intend to improve on both fronts though, and get so good at writing that everyone ignores me altogether. Right now four and a half people are quite pleased I’m doing this, which is too many. They need to take a chill pill and not give a shit either. The real reason for this is that it is great practice at not giving a crap. For everyone.