… unearthed? Rediscovered, maybe.
fabergemonkey has lain fallow for a very long time, a veritable barren wilderness of space, a dearth of words and thoughts and intent. And I had thought I had lost it, in its original form, buried in dropbox or somewhere similar, never to be found again, never to exist again, at least not without a struggle. It was a thought, and a memory, words half-remembered to time and place long gone.
Only I hadn’t archived it, I hadn’t deleted it, I had simply pointed to another folder and another database. Typically.
Writing a blog of any sort forms a narrative, a rambling potted history of silliness, laughter, musings, thoughts, despair, tragedy, sadness, hope and incidents beyond count. There are conversations with self, a broadcast into a tiny bit of the internet, fragile connections to readers and commenters, to friends long gone and friends still around.
Starting a new blog was hard, almost impossible, without that historical and emotional inertia to drive me onwards. This blog is seven years of my life, sporadic and skewed, tangible in its distant griefs and loves and playfulness. It anchors the present, it reminds me of what I once thought, felt and entertained. It is a signpost to my future, in all its mistakes, errors, misconceptions and naivety.
I am both terrified and elated to have it back.
To paraphrase James Kirkup… these words were made for writing. And so I shall…