(no subject)
ive most recently wondered if i should become a writer. despite my unintentional dislike of the authority of proper punctuation and grammar. or uppercase letters for that matter.
this foray of thinking could probably just be chalked up to too much kerouac, and too much time spent alone. to the point of the other morning waking up with muscles aflame, reeling and moaning in bed at 7am, crippled by hangover unable to sleep. but for some reason thinking of haikus for some god forsaken reason.
coming up with only one that i thought personally clever:
"Flirting with madness.
Not ever settling down.
Fear of commitment."
counting. recounting syllables for close an hour. rehashing those words over and over. upon deciding that yes, that is the correct syllable structure, wondering.
wondering if ive stolen that from a source without realizing it.
shit the list is endless of who couldve written that, and maybe written it better in more than a 5,7,5 syllable structure.
then assuming they must have.
but then again remembering that occasionally creativity sneaks out of me in tiny, almost imperceptible increments.
but only when im not paying attention.
this is precisely what i wanted from this endeavor. to run myself into the ground, and to be completely without comfort and safety.
im not strong enough to not complain, but im at least smart enough to know that this is exactly whats needed.
the truth is i only feel fully purged once i get things down in exact, and perfect words. or have them chronicled in some combination of exact and perfect physical color.
this foray of thinking could probably just be chalked up to too much kerouac, and too much time spent alone. to the point of the other morning waking up with muscles aflame, reeling and moaning in bed at 7am, crippled by hangover unable to sleep. but for some reason thinking of haikus for some god forsaken reason.
coming up with only one that i thought personally clever:
"Flirting with madness.
Not ever settling down.
Fear of commitment."
counting. recounting syllables for close an hour. rehashing those words over and over. upon deciding that yes, that is the correct syllable structure, wondering.
wondering if ive stolen that from a source without realizing it.
shit the list is endless of who couldve written that, and maybe written it better in more than a 5,7,5 syllable structure.
then assuming they must have.
but then again remembering that occasionally creativity sneaks out of me in tiny, almost imperceptible increments.
but only when im not paying attention.
this is precisely what i wanted from this endeavor. to run myself into the ground, and to be completely without comfort and safety.
im not strong enough to not complain, but im at least smart enough to know that this is exactly whats needed.
the truth is i only feel fully purged once i get things down in exact, and perfect words. or have them chronicled in some combination of exact and perfect physical color.