Start all over again

I have my LJ, but I feel like I want something more. Something between the irrelevancies of that and the brutal incoherent honesties that infrequently emerge in my personal diary. Somewhere where I can try to let it all out, and see if I really can write the way I used to. Perhaps my Plathesque attempts at literary production were merely the result of general teen angst, perhaps the ability to write something stunning is still lurking somewhere beneath the surface. I wrote a stream of consciousness weeks ago now, and the flow was wonderful, yet I couldn't turn it into what I wanted. Mostly because I really haven't tried yet. It could be an epic by my standards, something I can use to prove that my degree isn't entirely a waste of time and that I truly have learnt something I can use. I could tell you anything you want to know about Charles Dickens' representations of London, or the importance of patronage to literary productions in the 17th century, but in all honesty I'd be satisfied with the work I've put into this degree if I could just write one truly incredible poem. I never got around to editing the piece I wrote when I couldn't sleep, it just won't flow. Perhaps if I didn't feel the need to be such a perfectionist it wouldn't be a problem.

Literary insecurities aside, things seem to be taking a turn for the better. The boy is wonderful when he chooses to be, although this seems to be a lot less frequently than one would hope. The fact that I'm taking a risk on him says something about how far I've come recently, or perhaps I've just reached the point where I'm fed up of my own nonsensical excuses for self-punishment and instead I've actually decided to act on impulse and utilise my over-active emotions. I hope I don't push him away with my overwhelming need for reassurance and stability. I guess we both have a lot to learn.

I saw Mark Ronson today, he was nothing special. Well, he himself was, particularly when holding that most marvellous of percussive instruments, the cowbell. The show was average though, mostly Version tracks and the solo work of the vocalists he'd brought along. The response to Valerie said more than I ever could, with everyone up on their feet and the echoes of the crowd's voices carrying far beyond the amplification of the PA. Strangely, I still don't think it's the best track on that record, Stop Me If You Think That You've Heard This One Before still gets me in ways Valerie just never can. I probably should have gone to see Justice with him, but on second thoughts that has too much potential for harm. I did speak to him though, and it made me smile.

I think tomorrow I'm seeing Juno again, any excuse to comfort myself with delusions of Michael Cera knowing I exist.