Tan

I have a couple of themes that seem to crop up again and again in my writing:

1) My hatred of winter and cold

2) Heat, humidity, my obsession with grass and dew

3) My cynicism on the topic of love (and occasionally a lack of cynicism on the topic of love)

3) Death, violence, depression

Despite the usual morbid dreariness of my blog, when I write poetry, my favourite topic is the weather. Yes, sounds exciting doesn't it? The weather channel in stanzas. I'm sure you're turning away in disgust. Still, the one thing that makes me really happy is to lie on the grass, barefoot, hair unbound, in direct sunlight, with a tree in view. I let the ants explore my limbs and enjoy the feeling of my skin turning browner. So I try and capture that peace, that mellow joy when I write. And winter deprives me of that.

My prose on the other hand is often violent and depressing. I can't manage entire pages of happiness it would seem. And one can only write so much on the topic of grass.