You, ashamed of your candle, proud of a profit that
leaked from the womb of your phosphorescent thunderstorm, are a
traitor. While young americans require a nudge towards responsible
mindfullness, you are most enamoured with the weakining of our helix,
like a lemon in a lake would make lemonade. Like the blood of an
orange could turn the tide into juice. Like a thimble of blood in the
mouth of a corpse could flood a heart into a rhthym renewed. You have
willingly taught future monarchs that the abbacus was a string of
seashells strung for their tinkle. That two plus two equals five. That
the word truth is spelled the same way as sometimes.
I think when writers wait for the writing to come out of them by itself, they unknowingly waste a pivotal part of their creative potential. Some of the most gorgeous and valuable writing comes from wracking one’s brain for hours in front of a blank screen, typing and retyping until the words are perfectly tailored to perfection. Before this year I would always wait for inspiration to write, but I found myself only writing one or two poems in the course of many months because of it.
I realized that this is not how greatness begins. Mozart didn’t sit at his piano waiting for the notes to come to him, he painstakingly crafted and molded them over and over until he had created something incredible—even when he didn’t feel the spark of inspiration.
I will sit in front of the computer screen or at my desk for hours sometimes when I want to write. People who think of themselves as talented and give the credit to their inspiration may not pause to think that they are not giving credit to their own hard work— and the mental abyss they have crafted their poems out of.
I am not a talented writer. I just work really hard at this.
Kristen is a liar. She’s as untalented as a ceiling fan is a hurricane. Quit with the modesty punk.
- shamrocknrollx: i think i killed a lot of people in my dreams last night
- shamrocknrollx: but yes. i was stabbing you in all different places
- shamrocknrollx: like slitting your throat
- shamrocknrollx: and you were not dying.
- shamrocknrollx: and i was sad because i loved you but we were both aware that there was something in you that needed to die
- shamrocknrollx: and you start slicing your own wrists
- BrianLBG: you are offish creeping me out
- BrianLBG: im reading OoTP now
- BrianLBG: so im clearly thinking you need some occlumency lessons
- shamrocknrollx: and then you are actually starting to die
- BrianLBG: before you start going nagini-on-arthur-weasley
- shamrocknrollx: and you have all these cuts
- shamrocknrollx: and we take you out into the rain
- BrianLBG: SECTUMSEMPRA BITCH BACK OFF