Clive Bull

Yes, I managed to get my site read out on LBC radio again, and one listener saw a picture of my paintings and recognised her old house! I've had a little flurry of calls in the last month, and may eventually gain 'regular caller' status in the minds of Londoners.

There have been a few little shifts this week, mainly with people I thought were lost causes but are now speaking. I spread my URL around the gym at last, though no one's come back and said they read it, and it also means I can write less and less about little events there or people may get the hump. Now, for variety I could follow a few remarks about the blog and turn it into a comedy spot, but not being a professional writer I'd struggle to write it without an inspiration. Of course for the children out there I could list a string of funny words like crapulous, understain, enema, suppository, phlegm, uterus and excrementitious, but I'd eventually run out and not that many people share my love of rude words. Or I could try and do impressions of some of my more amusing acquaintances, but it wouldn't come across very well in writing. I can have a dig at a number of people I know without computers, such as the woman I know I could swear was the first person to be born with Alzheimer's. Or a few personal items, like I lost my virginity at 15 and got it back at 21. But my stand-up material has now almost run out and I've only done a paragraph. So I'll wait till something comes to me on its own in future, as once I try and plan writing in advance it dries up. My best work has come all in one go with no prior thought. But maybe I'll slip in the odd 'fart' or 'belch' in my writing in future to liven it up a bit. I could wipe mucus on the sleeve of my writing and open the window of my life to let the gas out.

But until that happens I'll carry on the usual way and let things unfold in front of me and be surprised as I see it forming. I often don't remember half the things I've done until I start typing, and am basically a frustrated performer who had to divert the wish to entertain for the need to earn money. But it's both never too late to do it properly somehow, and till then I write my stuff online. No cost, no limit so no need for rationing and severe editing as I would on paper. Having waited 44 years to display my life freely online there's a lot of pent up data waiting to come forth, and like any cupboard collecting junk for years, some needs chucking out and others are worth a fortune. I just don't wait till I find the good stuff as it would change a real life into a soap opera where all the boring bits are taken out and the interesting bits are all strung together. But then I'd only post about once a month and no one could have a go at me as there'd be sod all to pick on.

Actually one final reason I write so often is my regular blogs I read have either dried up or gone off a bit. They all change and evolve, and many have switched from life to 'issues', usually single ones, and I'm more interested in people's everyday lives and thoughts than what's going on in Iraq (ptooey!), Canadian politics (whatever that is), terrorism (we can't do much about it, it's a reality so why analyse it?) and of course the favourite of many London geeks, the latest bluetooth, Ipod and Gameboy technology. If I want to know I'll go to bloody Argos, thank you. Meanwhile, the paid-for article in me will be brewing until someone somewhere discovers it and offers to put it in their newspaper. Till then you'll have to put up with me here.