attacking the written word
a spontanous burst of descriptive urges: my brother, if you please, on his adivice: sometimes he has these rare moments of wisdom pero the rest of the time he's just talking out of his non-existent ass with psuedo-wisdom built on an ego the size of the universe. but i love him still.
this morning as i was patiently dealing with the on-off internet of my tita's house and reading the longest and most complicated email of my life yet. i was sent on a blast from the past to entries of yesteryear and realized that i missed pouring out my soul on a blog. i stopped after a few years decided that because of the lack of people who read my entires anyway i needn't make the fuss. and partially because i felt like being invisible for a while. invisibility and evolving into who i am now residing in my much cooler current world did me well. it does wonders on the making of a raspy voice. but going back on track, i seemed to have realized this morning that there may be a possibility of a potential for good writing in me yet. not to fatten up my ego, but a few people have told me that they actually enjoyed my writing. i guess it only takes a good book, or in this case a bunch of old entries and tad of drama in one's life, to revive that in a person who has surrendered to the grip of television and a world of shallowity.
-k