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Am I a perfectionist? Eh, me? No, not really… Nothing I do is anywhere near perfect. And anyway, perfection doesn’t really exist.
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About The Plague
It would be ridiculous to persistently chase the impossible… No, not for me, thanks. I’m a realist. I like my misery to be rooted in something more concrete… And so begins the unravelling of self-delusion. The exhilaration that is roller derby, a legend of a Chinese doctor, the reluctant surrender to the benefits of Google, devastating physical fractures, insolent psychological martyrdom and the ups, downs, lefts, rights and wrongs of the expected emotional pilgrimage through any respectable narrative, all make an appearance. It’s a painful and slightly needless ramble, but misery likes company so humour pops in too. In the words of the best cults, ‘join us…’