Two Things:
Two Things:
which a non-caffeinated brain must recall.
1) to write of synesthesia with descriptive pleasure is presumptuous of the author and not necessarily entertaining to the reader.
2) writing of the past, of allusions and metaphor, had references of nature. For that was what people knew and engaged with. This modern society makes references to technology and name brands, pornography, drugs, globilization for that is what we know.
An alert mind is high on the market for speed is a prized possession. But I never seem to shake this drowsiness to finally wake. The present is as blurry as memories and no, hindsight is not 20/20. So why do I write, and why now when I gave up writing a while ago? Is it my response to the horrid Joanna Newsom and her inflammatory writ? Her stupid metaphors for her super feminist and non insightful popularity? Perhaps, I hate over poetic people who have no substance. I also hate ugly non profound women, it makes them useless.
So why should I have this redemption, and believe that I have decent things to say and how I say them? I don’t know, I have a hard time not being bitter and angry. As a child I had none of this and I wrote much better- I had imagination and unlimited access to beauty. Now I’m overly critical and find that good taste comes with a bit of bile in the salivating mouth.
Language was becoming obsolete to me. It’s why I went to Germany, a country that speaks a language I’m completely unfamiliar with. It’s why I fell in love with a Russian immigrant who had difficulties with German and even more so with English. It’s format, it’s restrictions, were not optimal for the communication I wanted to have. I was sick of description and even more so, sick of nouns. I couldn’t give vocabulary to anything anymore. Lines that were so easily distinguishable no longer existed to me.
Writing was just becoming more frustrating than it was charming. The profusion of words spilling from people’s mouths, writing, text messaging, it was all being defiled… it felt like bafoons just kept talking and talking and no one was listening. Verbal diarrhea. What happened to editing? The perfect example of Babylon and Judiasm’s critique of gentiles speaking. People keep babeling with that forked tongue, and who do you trust when no one says anything of sincerity? It’s as if everyone wants to be experts on stream of consiousness like James Joyce yet say absolutely nothing.
Then you ask, what gives me the write to go on complaining as I do? Because I really want to get this past me, I’m tired of not being satisfied with language and I want to see its evolution. So I apologize for not being refined now. I don’t need to take upon a style from the past and antiquate the human condition. It seems that the world is changing, and there is a need for a new vocabulary. Perhaps I would like to be an active participant.
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