This task of ordering my thoughts and writing them down is doing me good. It brings me ever closer to a conclusion.
(Gideon Mack, p 35)
One of the great things about writing is that by turning one's thoughts into written words one is forced to phrase them carefully, maybe even reconsider them. That's why I was writing short 'texts', afterwards buried in my desk's drawer, even in those bygone days when a pen and paper were the usual tools; that's why I'm blogging now even though I don't expect anybody else to read my posts.
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I dissembled, as ever.
(Gideon Mack, p 94)
A gay growing up in a 70s/80s small town, I developed dissembling into such a second nature that I couldn't (still can't) shed it when it became unnecessary, even unhelpful.
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(Gideon Mack, p 95)
I would list slightly different sets of activities, but heartily agree with the general drift. Unfortunately where I live even DIY is considered a perfect Sunday pursuit, and half the population seems to think that making a lot of noise is imperative for feeling good.
On 1st March 1979, a referendum had been held, asking the Scots whether they wanted a devolved Assembly in Edinburgh. The result was a resounding maybe.
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(Gideon Mack, p 122)
The best summary of that particular public vote I've ever read.
Everything in my life seemed to be in the past.
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(Gideon Mack, p 159)
Since I went into self-imposed exile almost five years ago it feels like however long I may yet be here, nothing really important can happen, because it already has.
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