by say

On My Writing

If a person were as neat and concise [as small] as they appear in books or on the television, writing would be far simpler, and, in a word, boring. However, as a single personality could take multiple lifetimes to comprehend, I am temporarily enthralled by the attempts to render facets of a person or persons lucid thru the semi-permanent imperfections of the written word. Nowadays, a few of the Avant-garde literary artists are all about flaunting the already blatant imperfections of their respective writing styles in their sculptures of letters and silent sound… creating beautiful garbage that they cast in an honest light, as the pinnacle of its beauty is in the acknowledgment of its imperfection. I cannot lie, this lure has caught me and dragged me so far inland that I can no longer see the shore. In fact, since I have begun writing more personally, more honestly, I find I cannot stop. Every meaningless scientific question I answer with a flourish that is, in fact, part of a hidden treatise to my inner actuality. I particularly like to focus on order; that is, the order that words, phrases, sentences, paragraphs and ideas, come in, as I find certain areas are inclined to lend a ridiculous amount of insight into what a writer is attempting to get across. For example, the beginnings of sentences seem to show the writer’s mental clarity at the time. I am trying to explain a point that is rather difficult for me to phrase, so many of my sentences here have begun with short, grounding, adverbial clauses (as well as containing them, but that shows my hesitancy more than my indecisiveness). But do not let me pretend to know anything. As I digress I may get technical, and technicalities are deceiving. Colourful words that people can scoff at have far more boldness and are therefore more forthright than concrete blocks of truth that one can hide behind.

On Me

Unlike most people, I do not like to talk too much about myself for fear that a glimpse of my whole self might be caught by an inadvertent listener, while such an occurrence would nevertheless bring me monumental relief. To better peel away the hardening, clotted fog that surrounds the clarity of my being [if there is any clarity to my being], I will go into specific details, because that seems like it would be counterproductive, but has a greater potential for accuracy. I find running water indecent, almost orgasmic, and everything I write hints at ships or seas or fishing …or dihydrogen monoxide [marine biology fascinates me… I set anything that spends the majority of its life in water on a lofty pedestal]. I have yet to find a person who shares my sense of humour. I am dually sensitive and cut off, due to a strange series of circumstances that have governed my life. I also have the irritating tendency to think that I am odder than the next person, as you have likely noted. That, of course, has developed from the next person repeatedly telling me how much odder I am than they. I love English because I love words, and I love words because they are ridiculous... the ultimate irony. The imperfection of language holds the primary responsibility for miscommunications, yet language is the clearest (and usually the preferred) method of communication. I hate the rules of capitalization. I want to capitalize what is momentarily important, and I want to capitalize on the fact that my absurd use of capitalization usually knocks people backwards, back to my words. I am also prone to bouts of severe depression, usually followed by incredible elation, such that those without my mental condition could not possibly comprehend why I would refuse medication. The sunshine after each storm makes the stormy days worth it, in my mind. I am just kidding about everything I have just said, except the first sentence. It was just a stream of consciousness that congealed and twisted into something that might yank at a rather primal fear of mine. Oho! What do you think now? And as a post script... it is good that I am not interested in becoming a readable writer, as I would probably jerk my readers around too much and then they would get whiplash and then they would sue me. Nobody likes rudely imposed financial obligations!

i'm laughing uncontrollably at potential reactions to this conglomeration of monkey humus