Oooh you're a naughty mess

i shy from the complexity of emotions, p'haps why i seek some form of regular oblivion/ these include self-doubt, e.g. am i a good writer, do i have what it takes to be one, why is it important to me to become one, are all decisions coloured by extraneous factors (if so then they are not extraneous)/ one of the waugh dynasty said there's no point becoming a writer unless you have something to say and are determined to say it well/ this is something i've held for a long time; there is no point forcing it/ if you do, it'll sound shit.../ i dunno...i dunno...voltaire said to doubt is unpleasant but certainty is absurd/ thus the human condition is one of constant frustration or delusion/ nice, but i'm inclined to agree/also 'd an argument with my brother about his behaviour when we went out: took him to a place to get wede, there were lots of people sat around the kitchen table and we were invited to stay for drinks/ my brother, who suffers extreme social-anxiety, spoke not a word throughout, which is fine, but when we left started slagging them all off, clearly as nothing more than a defense mechanism/ this has really stayed with me and i've been brooding about it a fair bit/ i mean i understand where he's at/ when i was a prolific user of the 'reb i too found the society of others almost unbearably uncomfortable and would retreat into myself, constructing spurious reasons for my doing this but always knowing the truth deep down/ currently reading the bedroom secrets of the master chefs, irvine welsh, and it's what you'd expect/ shallow psychology, predictable plot and characters but i'm quite enjoying it/ i think i'm enjoying a break from the intensely stimulating and penetrating work of dh lawrence/ he is just too damned good/ started sketches from the hunter's album, turgenev, t'other day and it is fantastic, the humor uber wry, reminding me of gogol/