There are a lot of things I would like to write about, but I hold myself back because I think they are subjects that I *shouldn't* share. I may have a glitchy sense of what is appropriate or inappropriate to talk about, because I grew up in a House of Secrets. I have these duelling inclinations to to talk about things that I maybe shouldn't talk about, or not talk about things that I probably should talk about.
As Philip Larkin wrote, "they fuck you up, your mum and dad"
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.