From around the mid 90’s until the end of the first decade of the 21st century, I wrote. I wrote a lot. Now I’m thinking about getting back into writing.

I wrote poetry, over 250 poems, one-liners and pagefillers, silly, smart, an emotional gutpunch sometimes and utter shit. I wrote prose, fairytales, desperate adolescent death fantasies, drugfueled teenage angst, strange tales, short and longer even.


Also from July 21st 2000 to July 21st 2006 I kept an online journal. An early blog of sorts, in which I would document my days. Gave an account of my encounters & perambulations, whilst obscuring identities of the people in my life and ranted poetically -or not so poetically- in a fog of magical realism and mind altering substances about my surging emotions and ceaseless thoughts. Writing kept me sane, even though the words hint at the opposite.


Having been toying with a vague desire and even vaguer plans to start writing again, anything, in recent years, I was tempted to read some of the old work, rescued from the clutches of digital oblivion. Many poems I had to convert from a WordPerfect format into something a little more modern, before I could do so. Reading my journal, which I generally avoid because it disturbs, upsets and depresses me too much, I did find a lot of interesting material there. I have to be careful though, on these trips down dark memory alley.


So I wondered if I should put it all online. The poems, stories, thoughts, the journal even. Just to have it be out there in the world. Not all of it is good. And I’m flattering myself here. Most of it is bad. And it’s personal. A lot of it is dark. The blog is downright disturbing at times. But still. I don’t want to hide, not who I was, not who I am, I wrote for a reason. I want to find a reason to write again. A better one than the fire that used to thrust me, which was composed of fear, anger, frustration, guilt, lust and depression.

I hope that lifting the veil on my past writings will help spur me on. I like to think that there’s something new ahead. That’s not how it used to be. Slowly, carefully forward. Forward. Here are my words.

I’ve also been working as contributing editor to a Dutch website about single income households.