I am not unaware that gussprints lacks an ‘about’ page. You know, about the author. This is not deliberate. Well, not entirely. Anonymity has always appealed greatly to the author, along with a determined rejection of the idea that any useful details concerning a person’s character can be gleaned from a few words.
But because a snarky attitude does not a good blogger make, here goes my one brave attempt at peeling back the curtains and letting the people in. Sort of. If they can sift through the verbose layers I tend to hide behind.
Gussprints is a young boy’s letter to the world. A curious, nostalgic boy, who has quietly accepted his position at the edge of every social situation, and has subsequently retreated into the comforting reassurance of his own thoughts. His letter to the world, because he refuses to accept it for what it is. He prefers the tragic romanticism of the worlds he dreams up, where lovers sigh and kisses linger, and that fleeting glance means more than any words could. In his world, unlike in the one swelling all around him, he is braver, funnier, happier. Taller.
So he writes about the people around him, the events that feed his bleak outlook on life. He resorts almost entirely to fiction, because reality is sleepy and insipid.
Maybe someday, his footprints, faint but visible, will be seen in that well-travelled literary path; the prints of a timid goose trying to assert himself in a cesspool of noise.
Or perhaps his thoughts, like countless others before his, will be forever lost, and the world will remember nothing of the grim introvert who lived entirely in his words.