Who I am...and several other intriguing but unsolicited anecdotes

Well as my dear friend once thoughtfully and eloquently said, “Heyagaaaaaaaan moooiyt”! This thought expresses my greetings to you as you somehow find yourself on this random website with a dodgy blogspot web address.

My name is Mitch, and I have what is called “author’s complex”, in which the victim (me, in this case) thinks he can write, and also thinks that other people can read…sorry, want to read, what he is writing. 

This is a dangerous starting point for all but the most self-loathing of writers, whose impenetrable lack of self-worth is the very thing protecting them from the erroneous notion that people like reading their stuff.

I do have many things I like relaying to people, mostly my negative opinions about them, but I shall try and limit myself to pithy compliments and only the mildest questions regarding the intellectual fortitude of others.

I used to drive a grey ute, which I called Mavis. I was inordinately fond of her, and yet somehow she finally caved in to the woes and depression of internal electrical issues. I don’t know whether the slow deterioration of her condition (and the sudden and intriguing absence of a left hand passenger door) were the result of Fate’s obvious hatred for dear Mavis, or the fact that Mavis’ driver had a “-teen” suffix on the end of his age.

Really hard to tell. 

The thrashing she received in her lifetime was quite…notable. Parts began to drop off the dear old vehicle, in the most inconvenient and interesting places; once outside the public library in Bairnsdale, which almost resulted in me and about four other comrades being assaulted by a gang of disgruntled and Wi-Fi hungry eshays (if you don’t know what an eshay is, never fear. I think I shall write my next post about them).

Anyway, the reason I tell you about Mavis is that though the scrapyard wreckers may have her body, they shall never take her soul! And that is because her soul is now resident the toe of my boot, because after the amount of times I kicked things on that dear vehicle, I think she ceded some of her inner self to my shoe. Anyway.

I’m going to write about some of my adventures, so stay tuned.

Your inexorable salmon fritter,

Mitch