Hi my name is Cliff
I reside in a hole in the ground.
Well, okay, that’s not true in a literal sense.
In truth, I live quite a comfortable existence, in a house.
I am not a member of the affluent society, per se, but I am muddling along in a decently, middling sort of manner, I suppose. Middle-class mucker, that’s me. Lol!
How are you doing? Well I hope?
I am fairly okay, all things considered, but I don’t exactly know who I am. What I mean, by that, is that I don’t really understand myself from a metaphysical standpoint.
It is my mental processes you see. They are not functioning in a proficient manner. My words feel trapped. in a vacuous chasm. Frozen, immobile. Incapable of rational order or comprehensive cadence.
I have restarted this silly, little, free-write exercise countless times. (Which, in itself, defies the very purpose of this expedition.) I’m vowed and determined to post whatever ridiculousness I end up with, this time.
Frustration, angst, anxiety, doubt, disappointment, aggravation, and fear all rear their hideous little heads. Well, annoyance anyway.
I want to pen a perfect piece of prose, a scintillating script, or at the very least, a readable record of my problematic process.
Words within words within words within…whatever!
Ah sweet addictive alliteration, at least I have you to fall back on.
My nephew, Jaxxy, is chuckling away at the tv screen, one of his favourite (kids) YouTube videos. I should feel some guilt about that, but he seems to be enjoying himself, and possibly even learning a thing or two, so what more could one ask of one’s electronic childminder? It’s not a frequent habit, he lives a very active lifestyle.
Weāve nowhere to be, It’s still raining cats and dogs outside, and our little puppy, Lucy, is chillin’ on her little doggy bed. Snoring up a storm.
I am writing this shambles of a blog, primarily to test out a new Bluetooth keyboard, but also as a means by which I might shake loose a few rusticles and cobwebs in my clunky, old brain box.
As you can probably tell, the keyboard works quite adequately.
My brain, on the other hand? Quite another story
A writer must write,
so write I do. (Well, it resembles writing if you step back far enough.) At any rate, I had a go, didn’t I?
I’d sooner it be some cohesive, coherent missive, a tantalizing text, but alas tā was not to be.
I think I’ll go join Jaxxy in front of āThe Tubeā, and try again anon.
Bye for now,
Cliff š
Cliff's Notes 
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