Archive | November, 2013

Misplaced Comma

25 Nov

every, single, misplaced comma
(a bracket without a partner
(not parenthesis,
but alone.

every, single, fullstop
An end. Always alone.
just there
An overcomplication,
something extraordinary
or just superfluous
an accident, eccentricity
Madness!
a blemish,
every, single, misplaced comma,
an isolated (is it a mistake
or maybe something else,
,a point for consideration, (maybe

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Unachievably Impossible

25 Nov

I’m officially a NaNoWriMo (is that right?) quitter. I know I shouldn’t say it and feel proud about it but I do. After about two weeks of writing I realised that what I intended to write about is far too complex to write in a month. I would need a year or two, I would need an infinite amount of time, and since I am still not payed for my writing I realised there is no way in hell I should continue with that project. It’s sad that what I intended to write ended up seeming close to S by JJ Abrams and Doug Dorst (which I haven’t read yet but intend to sometime soon). What I intended to write would be huge and complex and far too ambitious to be published by a young author – the world sucks!!! Anyways I quit, and surprisingly I don’t hate myself for that decision. So anyways I haven’t written here in aeons and I’m sure no-one wants to know what I’ve been up to since I last wrote.

I’ve actually been doing nothing. I lie. I’ve been taking French classes et je sense j’ai recu (c with a thingy on it) rien a patir de la classe. Tout ce que je recevais etait (e with a different thing on it) une fascination (is that right?) avec thingies sur des lettres. If you bother to translate that and find out how bad my French is then: I’m sorry. So anyways other than that I’ve been writing a lot. I even got another rejection letter from a publisher. I wish we had agents in South Africa so they could tell me whether I should pursue an idea or not. Why do we have big ideas? An even better question why do we have big dreams? All big dreams ever seem to do is hurt us because they are so unachievably impossible. I know I don’t feel alone on this. I’m sure everyone out there keeps reaching out for their huge dreams and then bam, we fall face first into a pile of shit. And then after you stand up you step into that same pile of shit and fall right back down. The sad thing is the pile of shit is warm and kinda comfortable only it smells like shit so we never appreciate our comfortable landing spot we always try to leave it as fast as possible. Maybe if we stayed in our shit for longer… nevermind we’d just smell like shit.

I wonder though, I wonder a lot.

I wonder why everything everywhere is so… so whatever it is,

Things are hard to attain, things we do get never seem worth getting anyway. Why do we dream when all we are met with is disappointment? Am I the only one who thinks about this? Am I the only one who thinks like this? Is there going to be an end to my rhetorical questions? Do you think I should stop now? Why are you still reading?

I bet you can’t repeat that last question cos you skipped everything after: Is there an end…? And yes there is an end, everything ends #sadreality #Istillhatetwitter #whyamidoingthis? But that always happens, always things go on and on we keep #hashtagging and falling in our shit. We keep dreaming and dreaming some more and then we realise our dreams are and only can be dreams. But then we say with work and time and effort and the tick of the clock things will happen. And then we realise that tautology is a crime greater than the error of syntax (which should not be confused with sin tax – the taxes I pay on booze and cigarettes, stupid government!), and we give up, only to try again a day later. We put ourselves in the trap. And as always I wonder, why isn’t shit comfortable.

Shit is soft and squeezable and warm (if fresh) and also stinky, so I stand up again. I try to go. But bam I spilled and am now lying face first wondering if the cycle will end or this blog post has a point.

It doesn’t have a point, That’s because a blog post has no shape, or does it? I wonder and I think and I dream if blog posts were actually important what would this say about me and I dream that someone would read this to completion, and I think someone out there must know what I’m talking about. I dream of that someone and shaking their hand. I dream of smiling at them but we are computers apart and my dream is dashed, back to shit. Back to trying to stand knowing that I will only fall in the next few seconds.

Back to me and this silly name: AnotherWannabe.