The return of Marren
Just to clear things out:
Faultwood is a dead Blog writer who used to be the ruler of this Journal, he quit and I took over, later he died, the Faultwood title cannot/will not be changed. Any writings about Faultwood are merely about the man, and right now the writer clearly is Marran Daultroy, myself.
So,
as I am now working on a published version of a book which includes - a version of the short story written a few entries ago, a version of the two dialogs also from this journal, and a play that I have only written part of for now - I havn't been updating, truthfully, let's say, I have been more bothered with the play, the publishing of the book, and listening to Of Montreal. But then, as always some activity, occupied me, and it occupies me, as the Israeli army occupies the West Bank, and that very activity again and again brings back to life the true meaning of what it is to be Marran Daultroy. As I am not going to say what the activity is because of journalism beuracracy and such, I will only say that 80% of posts were written about and/infuanced from the matter. This activity, which leads me to the though about the condition of humanity, is what I like to call "All Evils", which is the name of my book since all writings in the book deal with this matter, well, not with the activity, you see, but the state of mind.
So,
as I filled up with emotions of these All Evils I decided to write something that has to do with that. Alas, I said, I shall speak OF the matter and not vaguely toss in lines in poems describing what I fear is what keeps the word turning round, I shall explain to the common man what it is! Alas! I said again, I cannot speak of this matter in the every day laugnege used to describe things, I must vaugly describe it while leaving alot of room for guessing and pondering over what might that matter be! Leave room for the common man to dwell in and understand, in self-explanatory terms, what this matter is! And so was done!
So,
here you have in front of you, the loaded writing of a very stressed out and anxious man.
I wish you farewell!
Marran Daultroy
Faultwood is a dead Blog writer who used to be the ruler of this Journal, he quit and I took over, later he died, the Faultwood title cannot/will not be changed. Any writings about Faultwood are merely about the man, and right now the writer clearly is Marran Daultroy, myself.
So,
as I am now working on a published version of a book which includes - a version of the short story written a few entries ago, a version of the two dialogs also from this journal, and a play that I have only written part of for now - I havn't been updating, truthfully, let's say, I have been more bothered with the play, the publishing of the book, and listening to Of Montreal. But then, as always some activity, occupied me, and it occupies me, as the Israeli army occupies the West Bank, and that very activity again and again brings back to life the true meaning of what it is to be Marran Daultroy. As I am not going to say what the activity is because of journalism beuracracy and such, I will only say that 80% of posts were written about and/infuanced from the matter. This activity, which leads me to the though about the condition of humanity, is what I like to call "All Evils", which is the name of my book since all writings in the book deal with this matter, well, not with the activity, you see, but the state of mind.
So,
as I filled up with emotions of these All Evils I decided to write something that has to do with that. Alas, I said, I shall speak OF the matter and not vaguely toss in lines in poems describing what I fear is what keeps the word turning round, I shall explain to the common man what it is! Alas! I said again, I cannot speak of this matter in the every day laugnege used to describe things, I must vaugly describe it while leaving alot of room for guessing and pondering over what might that matter be! Leave room for the common man to dwell in and understand, in self-explanatory terms, what this matter is! And so was done!
So,
here you have in front of you, the loaded writing of a very stressed out and anxious man.
I wish you farewell!
Marran Daultroy