I started reading Leleohead just now – I’d known about her blog for some time, but have never really gotten around to scrolling through it properly until now.
And I enjoy her words, a lot. There’s a warm honesty about them that keeps you reading. She also writes in a nonchalant, matter-of-fact manner which I’d learned, over the years, to identify with talented writers. Plus, she has humour and wit, attributes I admire greatly.
Often, I lament dramatically (or with a poker face, for dramatic effect) about how our country doesn’t have a soul; nothing is sacred with us and we are fast turning into human-like androids. Mostly, I’m angsty about how we lack an intelligentsia in general, and writers in particular.
Then I come across someone who writes like this and I am relieved. We do have writers! I feel that saved us, somehow.
You should read Carrick too. I’m such a huge fan.
Off-the-tangent side note: My relationship with shoes has reached a binge-dating stage. I’m a shoes serial dater. It should be depressing (because its bordering on becoming a sick habit), but I’ll be lying if I tell you I’m not deliriously happy with my new buys.