Archive for the ‘The Writer’ Category

Fragments.

I’m sorry, it’s not the cohesive whole

(which I want and need it to be)

but it’s all the gods are currently allowing.

Fragments of salad.

 

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She asks me if she’s ever seen me drunk.

WTF?!

Strange question to ask (considering she makes the occasional jibe about me drinking beer and how it’s, in her view, not necessarily good).

Nonetheless, I’m pleased that she has to ask the question.

As much as I love beer and *it*, I don’t want to be remembered as being drunk. No, because being drunk is personal. It’s *me* time, it’s introspection.

In any case, define “drunk”…

As a writer, I don’t care how much you hurt me, try to hurt me, inflame or defame me. You can’t knock me out or finish me off, really you can’t. All I need is time at the end of the day, a smidgen of energy and psyche left. And I will write.

Your efforts to destroy me fail, time after time. You just give me experience and perspective, feeling, a greater wealth with which to relate to the world and, in time, sting back, as your fat corpse decays and rots.

You can’t hurt me, not in the long run. I will write. I will keep on writing, one way or another. I will always triumph. The words matter. The words are matter. The words which flow through me are a gift from God Himself. The words will make this world a better place. The words will be read in centuries to come, reflected upon, meditated upon. I will outlast you in fact and in deed (indeed). Hope will defeat despair.