These are the thoughts that go through my head.
Ironically, in a site showcasing my written words, those words above are not my own – they are taken from my bible, aka the cerebral core of my sagacious deity Her Mighty Alanis Morissette. The next line in the song is “in my backyard on a Sunday afternoon” which is also generally true but just seemed excessive. More delicious irony in explaining my choice of reducing excess with far more words than it would have taken to just do the damn thing. Even more ironic still that I should spend so long introducing what my writing is about by explaining the irony of not using my own instead someone who ironically brought fame to the word by clouding the definition. I think. I dunno, I popped jagged little pinga when I was a kid and haven’t been the same since.
I am a very average nobody spouting mindgasms on whatever it is that might have just happened. A mentally ill disaster absolutely powering through life like fresh-legged Bambi in a Sarajevon coppersmith. Also, that probably won’t be the last Alanis rant.
On the cusp of my 33rd year I found out that my oddness was actually an illness they call bipolar, which at first was a lot to digest, but over the months of recovery I have learned a lot about my mind and the way it works in a way that I had never comprehended. I at first thought it was just yet another hurdle I had to overcome, but now see at a gift to be utilised and harnessed. Working with and not against the wind has centred my creative flow, which has always run rampant through my veins, and now I feel like more of a complete person. I no longer care for readjusting myself to fit into a world that exists to deny me, and to decree so in person is intolerably arrogant, so here I am. Sozfuckinlol.
I don’t like mornings or white people using “vino”, but I do like geeky word trivia, animal facts and amalgamation. Like how a newt used to be called an ewt, but over time the ‘n’ at the end of the preceding ’an’ jumped ships and ‘newt’ became the word we know and love. Bonza.
Reader beware…you’re in for a share.
xH
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Acerbic viewer of the world.
Strongly believes that eating raw cookie dough is worth the risk of death in doing so.
Say gday –
Mail: actuallyharry@gmail.com
Twitter: @actuallyharry
Actually, Harry 
Hmm, I have just decided to press the plus sign in a little darkened box that says follow – that indeed sounds creepy but I hasten to assure it is simply the pleasure of the read that compels me to do so. How I arrived here I know not, well I choose not to pour over yet another fixture of this contraption namely the history button to find out, just assume it is by accident.
I look forward to more of your typed word.
🙂
‘Dawn is the end credits to the film of the night before.”
That’s probably the most profound thing I’ve read today. Soldier on.