Long explanation:
I write poetry for a reason. It’s short, powerful, and (at least with my certain brand) sweet. Poetry actually exists as a filter that all my thoughts go through: before they become what you and I recognize as coherent sentences, they briefly appear as words, borrowed and sometimes inexplicable. I prefer language in that form. It retains its fizz long after its born in my mind. With anything else, the original “coolness” of what I had come up with is gone by the time it gets to the page.
I hate writing papers, I hate writing for school, for anything that essentially requires me to stick my elastic finger down my throat to bring up a dark-brown sludge of incoherent words. That process is worse than pulling teeth, it’s splintering them, slowly. And yet, in some cases (certainly not most, because sleep has a way of cutting short potential), the whoring process of writing for letters becomes a fruitful game. An unlocking of the brain. Exercising sentence length and varying conjunction uses, seeing where I can slip in a splice without being at all punished for it. One day I’ll make it a stylistic choice not to use any commas and maybe get away with it too.
This blog is dedicated to the shiny side of that process. To the part of my brain that I’m scared to use because it so often produces dribble and worthless rephrasing of the exact same ideas. To writing longhand and being able to copy it word-for-word. To saying long, healthy goodbyes. To telling stories without skipping the good stuff. To bringing you somewhere, everywhere, to the skies.
Also, to making stuff up, because I’m tired of invading my own privacy.
Short explanation:
This time, I plan on writing much more than I ever have before.
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