Existential Blogism - My problem with space and time

So, before this all gets a bit too mixed up in my own head, I need to try and explain something. I'm currently having major problems with getting my story straight.

The problem with writing something like this is I get confused and then try to fill in the gaps without asking anyone what actually happened.

I can't remember things, I write things entirely out of order, I wrote things months ago and now - the concept of 'now' being a problem in itself - I'm writing things from a completely different perspective.

Rashomonilepsy.

What I'm saying is, this is going to be a confused read. To lay it on the line now, I've had my surgery and, bonus, I'm not dead.

I don't think.


Short disclaimer: Comments and opinions that appear here are not necessarily representative of the Chris that you last spoke to, but I'm trying to keep this as interesting and truthful an account of the latest chapter of my life as I can.

So, I'm trying to make sure that this is from the heart. Much of it is from the heart and then subsequently edited by my head. Most, if not all of it, is related to my bowels. 

However all of it is the truth, unless it hurts your feelings, in which case I was just saying it for effect.

I'm not quite sure who I'm addressing here, but anyway: In writing this, I want to try and avoid just telling the story of what's happened to me over the last year and a half or so.

I can't imagine anything more boring than a tale of a reasonably dull individual in the dullest period of his life, but unless I fill in some of the boring parts I'm not sure that the slightly less boring personal stuff will make much sense. My humblest apologies if I can't quite combine the two.

On the other hand, this is my fucking blog, so frankly I'll do whatever the fuck I want.

Honestly, some people...