Recently I was reading Bob Dylan’s autobiography, in which he describes looking over the desk at the record label at a man whose clean cut commercialism wounded his very soul, and deciding, out of pure contrariness, to invent his entire biography.  Fifty years later, the Bob Dylan born into sunburnt tobacco-chewing poverty, who cowboy walked out of the womb in a plaid shirt and sunglasses, still endures over the university-educated Robert Zimmerman.  So, in view of the fact that this blog is related to my writing career, I should be careful what I say.  There is still a tendency to write one’s soul out on the internet, as if it is a fantasy realm peopled by mysterious comment-generating ghosts, rather than give it the honesty and gravitas that you would a real-life conversation. 

I digress.  I’m trying to introduce myself, so that my blog makes sense.  I suppose as much as is self-evident from the title is that I am a student and writer, with an interest in design, high fashion and theatre.  I am also recovering from a year of torturously ill health, while coming to terms with the fact that I am disabled for the long-haul; luckily I live in the age of the internet, so there are a multitude of wonderful free articles floating around about disability advocacy and other things I’m interested in, like cultural norms, feminism and intersectionality.  The name of this blog comes from my hero, Lord Byron.  Early celebrity, mentally and physically disabled, handsome, lustful, and eccentrically dressed, he created the prototype for that strange cultural phenomenon, the tortured artist.

Hopefully I will be using this page to write all the stuff that’s clogging up my head and can’t be written anywhere else – stuff that will mostly be about writing, disability and depression.

Welcome to How Byronic!

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