Goodbye

Maybe I should be eating more fruit or something, but I suddenly find myself, like a character in Grimm or Aesop, struck completely dumb. Call it what you like: the mojo has evaporated, the desire to share my thoughts with and on the world is no more. It might be post-election blues, I guess, but the plain fact is that I can't think of anything remotely interesting to write about.

Well, that's not entirely true. I can think of plenty of things I'd like to write about, but cannot find the desire for research or the creative process. The election and rapid return to business-as-usual from NuLab has left me feeling thoroughly depressed with the state of the British polity, but without sufficient anger to strike out in words. It's like I've got the first line to a thousand protest novels but neither the guts nor the heart to fill the other 300 pages.

Regular readers will have noted a distinct decline in the quality of pieces appearing here since last week. The place is losing its way, and me with it. I have no wish to write shit. Better not to write at all, I think. I will continue at The Sharpener, and already have an idea for something else new to appear soon. But, for now at least, the Pseudo Magazine is an ex-blog.

I think...

LATE NIGHT UPDATE: Or I may be suffering a temporary lapse in sanity (or in my particular insanity)... Or I may be on holiday... Or I may morph, Transformer-style, into something unexpected but much more useful. Meanwhile, catch me and the much greater and gooder at The Sharpener.