JESUS WHY

by

WordPress… don’t… don’t do this shit without consulting me.

This.. might be a good thing? Once I get used to it? Revised: WordPress, don’t do this to me while I’m in the middle of finals.

I gotta write more. 

I was reading about Warren Ellis. I got really hard. I want to be a name that big. I want to have a body of work that big.

I gotta write more. I gotta write a lot more. I gotta write a lot of words, who cares if they make sense, take care of that later, first, for now, put them one in front of the other, then like hewing shapes into (out of?) rock, draw forth meaning. Rinse, repeat.

Cliches. Hackneyed phrases. You see a rock, I see a canvas.

I don’t know if it helps to write like this, but I can slip right back into the old prose. Yes I can. Like putting on your wedding dress, the smells all coming back to you, the little catches in the fabric, you close your eyes and you’re standing there like it was yesterday, like it was two seconds ago, your heart beating and beating and you don’t know whether to smile or cry so you do neither you just walk forward wide-eyed like a lamb, just like a lamb.

I used to be good at prose. I could be, again. If I tried, if I leaned forward, biting my lip with the sun at my back and the wind in my face and the ground falls from under my feet and the words just don’t stop coming, my muse arrayed in silk and velvet alternately sighing and giggling in my ear, and she’ll never stop, she’ll never forsake me, she’ll stay here with me and give effortless birth to word after word after word.

I did not mean for this to become this. You’ll forgive me when I’m famous.

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