(no subject)
I've discovered something, you should know, and it's that pure form of prose...walking down these alleyways to a friends house to lend books to the young, and it's raining, and a branch shakes water down upon me and all I can think of is the respite of whorling black Bic ink on paper in the patterns of the words which cross my mind with beautiful rapidity. I don't have these things, I don't have these things, so what did I do, instead? I continued waltzing across the uneven pavement dazedly, squinting out the sky and BOOMing out series of the words which made my skin tingle with their truth. BOOM, whisper, talk raise rise crescendo! the speed of my speech rapid or drawling at turns, fighting in a game of musical chairs. And this is what I said: i traipse in zigzags across and along the breadth and length of these alleys and the clouds having just been nudged in the backside by mountains shed their coatings in the way that dogs shed their fur in spring, i'm taking up space and space is being given so graciously to me that i can't possibly accept it all, so i trip, making no swerves for puddles in my paths. this rain is soaking my skin, too, and all around me, and greedy as i am i want it all to funnel from the mists of its birth to be poured down upon me, just me and me completely. the wind is blowing and boughs above are shuddering their share of the fresh liquid on me and me i blow too, i help too, i assist too in letting that stuff find the ground i tramp with my feet and spread out to feel it.
More than anything, more than anything, more than ANYTHING all I would want is for someone to listen to me talk like this, just ramble on without the constraints of grammar and rules of sentence structure, and actually listen and love me for it. If we could talk like this back and forth, for as much as I love writing, my writing isn't anything without the ability to read it aloud and hope that it pleases the ears of others.
More than anything, more than anything, more than ANYTHING all I would want is for someone to listen to me talk like this, just ramble on without the constraints of grammar and rules of sentence structure, and actually listen and love me for it. If we could talk like this back and forth, for as much as I love writing, my writing isn't anything without the ability to read it aloud and hope that it pleases the ears of others.