Richard Pierce

Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter

Life, Writing

Day 318

Manic today, which could be one reason for having spent almost entirely no time on social media so far today. I also think it’s partly the balancing effect of being on mastodon, too, which is such an unshouty place I feel no huge need to go and rebut lies put up by right-wing politicians. Although, it has to be said, in the five minutes I spent on twitter this morning, I was busy doing just that. Some of this all points me in that direction my thoughts often go in, which is that social media is probably totally unnecessry except when you’re trying to publicise yourself. The problem, of course, is that hybrid authors like me rely on social media to get themselves out there (mainly unsuccessfully for me, I must admit, especially as my twitter feed over the last 6 years has been mainly about politics – and there the question raises itself in my mind as to why the hell I wasn’t more politically active on there prior to that).

Pffft. This is as well the place, that place, between a rock and a hard place, I find myself in. I don’t want to appear self-centred, but if you’re trying to prmo yourself, you’re almost forced to talk about yourself to the exclusion of everything else. And I find myself looking at myself and listening to myself – and reading this – and seeing myself talk about myself most of the time. It’s a little uncomfortable, that realisation, that knowledge, and I do try to turn off the talking about me when I’m in private, but it can be awfully difficult, especially as it can often be a good way of getting people to open up, talking about yourself for a tiny amount of time before you start listening to others for a long time.

Yes, this is going in circles, partly because I couldn’t really think of anything substantive to write (and those two thought paragraphs have been in my head for quite some time and it was about time I wrote them down), and partly because the days become so curtailed by the early dark (and associated damp) that they seem to shrivel into nothingness. I’m just glad O and I went for an invigorating walk through the Heath before noon – it was glorious, and there was still some of the early morning mist dancing between the trees, leaping from what leaves were left on one tree to the leaves left on the other. And the crowd of dog walkers or baby walkers that sometimes irritate me when I go for a pre-noon walk were conspicuous by their (welcome) absence, too. I could have spent all my early afternoon up there, but that wasn’t to be, nor can it be all the time. Grateful for small times. Tomorrow is forecast to be horrid, and M and I are going for our C19 vaccine boosters.

Just to close, however much I love sport, I am really annoyed that the BBC has once again cancelled quiz night on BBC2.




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