You don’t know who I am.

It’s not too surprising.  There are probably lots of people you don’t know – or don’t care to know.

People ask me what I do and I say that I find myself in insurance broking.  It’s surprisingly interesting actually, I will tell you.  You’ll say, oh? and I’ll smile inwardly, because I’ve deflected the next question about what I’m really interested in, which would be the writing.

Lockin' lizards

I don’t call myself a writer because I don’t like sounding like a pretentious dick.  Sometimes I sound like one anyway.  Sometimes I’m called one unfairly.

Most of the time I’m the kind of dick that hides it.

Hides the dickiness.

I’m not so comfortable with the blogs.  With computers.  I sit at them awkwardly, bent like Laughton in a continual ‘fuck you’ to my spine – inducing self-consciousness when my body replicates this naturally at work, at the library, on the netbook in a cafe somewhere like some Parisian tosser.

As such, the thought of blogs make me a little ill.

I won’t pretend I had my arm twisted.  Be it recent life changes or the writer’s block or the need for a sounding board, it’s a good idea if you want to integrate with the modern world.

Watching Casablanca on the telly this strikes me as rather incongruous with the rest of my life, being the type of dick that remains old-fashioned according to most, stubborn according to others.

One might adapt but there’s adaptation and there’s adaptation.  The problem with jumping the latest in the endless queue of bandwagons is that you could get a lovely 1up in the world of contemporary whatever but just as easily fall flat on your face in a crusty cowpat and come out looking like a total cunt.

Pick and Choose

As I’m  here anyway, I might as well make the best of it and hope I at least go some way towards the former and neatly side-step the latter.

The reason I’m here in the first place is because people at the website e-mail me personal questions, the kind people hanging around on the forum like new teacher’s assistant wandering the corridors wondering where the hell they are won’t stop asking ‘what’s happening now?” and the lunatics here kindly encouraged me to pick up the spade and look for a shady spot to bury my own self-mutilated corpse.

As the website’s journal is html-based and monstrously accommodating when it comes to quick updates, the SPINNING LIZARD blog will be the place to come for quickfire updates on recent writings, musings and ramblings.

If by the end of it you still don’t know who I am, you can drop me an invoice for the inconvenience.

— db