Natural (?) Conclusions

I don't know if my blog has come to its natural conclusion or if I am just sick of it in general. Perhaps it is time to go back to simpler forms? I don't know if I have had a sudden attack of privacy or if I have said all I can be bothered saying. I know this sounds stupid, but everything dies at some point, and surely if I leave this space untended and uncared for for long enough, it too will die. Right now it is live/alive. But I suppose because anything 'on the net' is ephemeral insubstantial crap, it can't exist for very long. Is this one of the things that makes me hate the internet, and ipods? The idea if vitual space? Perhaps I like for things to exist more physically, and with evidence. I don't like the traces, or hints of the physical that we are all so fucking smug about these days.

Another reason for stopping now is that I have that overwhelming sense of who gives a fuck. And I know that last time I mentioned stopping I got all sorts of responses, but this time perhaps it is me who, after all this time, doesn't give a fuck. I think to start off with I had an urge to put my thoughts into the world, no matter how rough and unfocussed they were. Now I feel a bit aimless. This is aimless isn't it? And does that matter? Do you think anyone really cares other than me?

Although the thing that scares me most is the volume of what I have made, and I don't really know how to manage it, what it is for, why I did it, how it can be used or misused or what its destination is. That makes it a strange concept. And scary. What am I doing and why?

I am again reading depressing stories about AIDS (why am I so drawn to disease/epidemic/catastrophe writing?). This time by a guy called Adam Mars-Jones. One of the first things I wondered when I started to read was whether or not kids at school called him 'martian', or said he was from Mars. I probably would have found that really funny in primary school. Or perhaps not, considering I was, and continue to be afflicted with a mad and terrible surname. And perhaps I was less of a swine then than I am now?