Alipali writes from London to point out that there's very little here that tells you what I'm really feeling. (I admire Alipali. She's never afraid to give honest feedback.)

She raises an issue that so far I've avoided dealing with: namely, what the point of all this stuff is.

And there are different answers to that. The first is obvious: when you start something like this, no one tells you that you need a point. You just start writing, and, if you're lucky, a point appears.

The second is that I came up with the title, so I figured I should do something with it. What would you do if you came up with "Sonata for Unfinished Yelling"?

And the third reason is that I want to demonstrate, to myself as much as to anyone, that I can actually write. So some of the entries here are things that I've had floating around for some time, and which I just want to publish in some way. At this stage in my life, I just want to finish things and get them out there. Maybe one day I'll pursue some kind of journalism, and when they ask what I've already done, I can point to this page. With any luck, they'll find something they like.

So writing an online journal just seems to be something that I should be doing anyway. It's not be the be-all and end-all of my creative ambitions, but it's a useful thing to be doing along the way. I haven't been one to persevere with things, but I think I'll persevere with this.

So, to return in a roundabout way to Alipali, there isn't much here about how I'm feeling. But there might be more of that on the way. Or less. Depending on how I'm feeling.

And in the last week there's been very little of anything, because that's the way I've been feeling. And, at least for the time being, I'll be leaving the reasons for this a tantalising mystery.

That might not be much of a point, but it's still a point.