Gentlemen, this is going nowhere.

I can’t seem to get the beginning right, the rest however promises to not be too difficult. Once the blood is pumping and all that. I can of course crop away the few early lines of dribble and show to the world only those which come out as presentable. Who would know eh? That’s what all the good writers do I guess. Selective presentation, that is what it is all about. Making sure that what you put out there is fine, its brilliant, its spectacular. Everyone is then going to think that you must be so fine and spectacular yourself won’t they? Your deficiencies would be nicely hidden then.

But of course you do want to leave some of the gristle in, I mean if its all soft and tender meat, what is left to chew and ponder on? The sweetest of drinks must be slightly bitter, variety being the spice and all that. Anything too perfect is less than so isn’t it? So leave some of the drivel in. But now that I have told you this, my literary strategy, surely you’d be wondering that if this is the amount of nonsensical stuff he has left in, how much did he have to take out? How confused and directionless is this person? Should I be reading anything that he has to say? THERE MUST BE A BETTER USE OF MY TIME!

I sympathise with you, I really do. I had to read the above paragraphs more than twice after all. But you must understand that your reading these sentences is like watching someone exercise in their open back yard. It is the unflattering stretching of long dormant muscles, done for personal benefit. It just happens to be in a relatively public setting but is not done to draw immense attention to oneself. If it is any comfort to you, I am not really going to say anything substantial by the end of this piece so if purpose is your poison of choice, I’d encourage you to look elsewhere. Not to get too metaphysical on you, but there are very few things and places that shall be able to cater to that need of yours if you are indeed desperate enough to scour the Internet for it. But carry on you crazy piece of quartz you!

We could wrestle around on current affairs and geopolitics, but you’d get bored and I’d look silly and what would be the point of factless opining anyway. We could talk science and math but I’m doing this to run away from them so that would be suicidal wouldn’t it? Metaphysics I have found to be the perfect rambling space for this kind of leisurely waltzing on the keyboard. However what is to say that this ain’t that very meta kind of physics? This beating of the cranial egg into a midnight frittata is any less a noble act than its fertilisation with driven and goal oriented writing? The bigger question in writing is of course, who are you writing for? Maybe yourself, maybe others, possibly both? If its the first then this isn’t that bad. If not then there is trouble. The average reader is looking for something in any piece of written word that he/she comes across. Perhaps education, reflection, explanation, entertainment, amusement, contentment, reassurance, support, a jolt into reality? If all you have to offer is, to put it bluntly, a brain fuck, why would any sane person bother with what you have to say. Only those mad, perhaps as equally as you would be so tempted to plunge into the black hole that you have conjured with mediocre and presumptuous words.

The scarier thought is not that such acts have the indecency of public ejaculations, but that those who read them have the same sense of voyeurism as those revelling in the observation of the former.

Quotes are for the literarily lazy, they are for those incapable of keeping more than single sentence ideas in their heads.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s