Sympathy for the Devil

Please allow me to introduce myself, I'm a woman of little wealth and questionable taste. Aah, Mick Jagger wishes he could write something like that, but he'd have to pay me to borrow it. Approximately 8,000,000 years ago, I had a little WordPress site. That was back in the day when it was free to use, and you didn't need to commit to pay a monthly fee. (Wtf?) I used to post pretty frequently, mostly in response to things happening to me or the world in general. I never - that I can recall - used it to share my actual creative outpourings. So why now? Well, to be imperfectly honest with you all, it's because hardly anyone reads my work anymore. * Insert sad emoji of choice here * 

    I completed my Masters degree last year in Creative Writing, and then found to my horror that as a non-Facebook person, I had zero people on tap to view my very particular brand of factional nonsense. What are the odds? 

So this is where Blogger comes in. I'm forcing myself upon you in a way that's frankly a death wish in 2021. Sorry, but you did come here of your own accord, and, though I hope you stay, you are free to leave and never return should you so wish. Some of my stories may well enrage you, some upset you, and some downright horrify you, but they all have one foot in a very personal reality. And I need to share them, because the library in my mind is full to burst of tripe and treasures, eager to be sifted through. View this blog as one of those fabulously dingy literature sections you occasionally happen across; upstairs in an animal charity shop with a carpet that smells of sick, and cobwebs that were there three years ago. I'm hoping to be the blog equivalent of that book you read when you were fourteen, and you've just found it for 25p, upside-down in a bog of old jigsaws.

'So if you meet me
Have some courtesy
Have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politnesse' (???)
Or I'll start crying and have to block you.