Here We Go Again

Do I dare to eat a peach? CropI renewed the domain subscription for Beautiful Railway Bridge today. I’d been putting if off till the last minute – the lights would have gone out tomorrow – for several reasons. One is irritation at being being bombarded with reminders by WordPress when I knew the deadline and didn’t want to think about it until absolutely necessary. And part of the reason for not wanting to think about it was a reluctance to question whether writing a blog is worth the effort.

Yes, I get a great deal of pleasure from making a good blog post. But there’s always the fight with the worst broadband service in Britain, the faff of putting in all the links, and the maintenance involved in making over a thousand posts accessible and easy to find. And most of all there’s the self-imposed guilt when I don’t post on a daily basis.

The maintenance thingy is a shambles. And the images are scattered between this and an unused blog, when I really want them all in one place. It will take literally years to get everything sorted out, but that’s me in perfectionist mode – it might be better to ignore the trait as much as possible. Knowing where everything is probably matters only to me.

Which is a roundabout way of saying I’m still here and attempting once more to post every day. Ish.

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

T.S. Eliot is one of my favourite poets – up to a point.  The early poems move me, when he’s still blundering about trying to make sense of the world.  I love this poem – the sensuousness of the fog feels like a cat on my lap.  But I find the manic certainty and intellectual High Catholicism of his later work repellent.

Certainty is Death.

So this poem is a fond remembrance of an old friend who has gone over to the Dark Side.