in true writer's fashion.
i scribbled a bit while intoxicated last night. after transcribing the artwork from Seven Swans and practising my penmanship i started to think, as i tend to do, about what was "actually happening". took the situation into account from a different perspective. i then realized how much my handwriting differs from the way it was taught to me but that the alphabet is still somehow intact and completely legible. how much my handwriting has changed throughout the years but how there's still some common aspect that ties it all together. the order in which i cross my t's and dot my i's, the way i tend to use straight lines instead of all those frilly things they made me practice in gradeschool.
anyways here is the result of such contemplation:
some po ems. if you will:
written in the closest thing to "proper cursive" i can now produce...
On the Value of One's Own Life
Or How We forget Things easily
and Time continues to pass regardless
Cursive is a language of its own
Once learned
It fits itself around the penholder's words
like a glove that is worn in the most silent of ways
it takes shape
losing curls.
Still somehow with it's new custom fit
It, like every other habit
says something of how life may be
given to many
but by very few
lived.
Aa Bb Cc Dd Ee Ff Gg Hh Ii Jj Kk Ll Mm Nn Oo Pp Qq Rr Ss Tt Uu Vv Ww Xx Yy Zz
The building blocks of every concept I "know"
all taught at such an early age.
Just a language.
Different dialects
As if spoken
are the many forms it finds.
Each mind so used to certain ways
of spelling out the lines.
And still, even on the largest scales
we see that looking back
is tracing over lessons
that we've seemed to've learned
but lack.
First Person Live Narrative (drunk)
Morning has come
in this very second and the ones passing as my thoughts do my attention, the awareness and perspective of what would seem to be my identity is in a strange focus. engaged so deeply in the active process of introspective thought but also carrying out a seemingly complex task of handwritten commentary.
i attempted to make gingerbread cookies today. the dough was way too sticky and only made me think of 2girls1cup. which is very sad. but also very true. i think i'll consume more coffee and paint something today. maybe i can work msyelf up into a fiendish frenzy.
take care...just snatch it up and run for your life.