I have had some good ideas over my lifetime. The latest are the best. All the time, circling around me, have been the sharks. Not the ones to jump; the ones we should turn into (a very primeval) soup. The pressures to conform are such that I have considered suicide several times. The pressures have been present in Dublin, in the UK, in most places I hawk my business.

You can get a flavour of what has been happening by reading one of my most recent blogposts:

The best A&E I ever did have

It describes me trying to understand what has happened since I met one of the cruellest people I have ever met, back in mid-2016. A person never typical of the Irish, but nevertheless easily confused with.

A direct line can be drawn from that meeting to where I now find myself. Great ideas, no one I can trust. Although I am physically ugly, I do have a mind of beautiful. I therefore understand all too nearly what it is for a woman of handsome to be coveted abusively, exclusively, for her looks … and little else.

And thus my grey cells of brain.

And thus my grey cells of brain.

As if you had a RIGHT to say what I should use them for, and how I should use them.

A collaboration is always good, for sure. But yous have offered only presumption and assumption: a patronise of the worst.

You fail, even at this late stage, to properly understand the preconditions for creative thought. I don’t mean the drawing of sun and tree, and pretty little mades all sold in a row.

I don’t mean YOUR industrialisation.

I mean MINE!

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