The man behind the stutter

I wish I could talk as well as I write. I’m the king of one liners but my crown is a poisoned chalice. I long to be the jester delivering a performance on the center of the stage. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen the conversation steam ahead before I’ve taken a breath and even begun. I know I can do better than that.

And I know I can do better in my writing. We’re like two reunited lovers, separated by a great deal of time, more than a decade to be precise. Not because of war, or a Shakespearean gangster family feud, but the heartbeat of a passion killed off by the other wonders of the world. It has taken me a while but I’ve learnt that absence really does make the heart grow fonder. The more I spend in the softplay area called the corporate 9 to 5 world, where all the creative sapping bullies seem to hang out, the stronger the beat of my heart grows.

As for me, well, you might already know me. I’m the one with the perfectly timed, awesome one liners remember? I’ll be whistling a Disney tune or two while I work, sipping my favourite milkshake (currently Oreo) from a sweating goblet, and telling you about all the Lego mini-figures that I’m a father to.