It’s me. For a while I thought it wasn’t, then I built up a scenario in my head of how Penrich was going to supercede me, Penrich was going to slip into my mind and overhaul all the delicate feelings, emotions and fine tuning I’d built up over the years (told you it was late in that last blog). Well, turns out it was me all along! What about that, seems I’ve been writing poetry, novels, even sending stuff off to be churned by the rejection mill, for years. I always suspected it. Times I’ve woken up, slumped over the dining table, pen in hand and a few pages of semi-erotic prose under my head. On these occasions it’s all I can do to drag myself out to work. There, the illusion vanishes; I am alone with Macs, PCs and print problems, the whole meaning of the day has gone.
So, it’s me, and I’m going to sign myself with pride, not worry about how it will look when I come out from behind the mask of my alter ego and declare myself at one with him!
