Every day starts with relatively infinite possibilities, then gets narrowed down as the minutes march on. Such a sentiment is more widely-held by the younger set, those fortunate ones who haven’t whittled and winnowed away their enthusiasm just yet. Fledgling adults seem to have an inherent audacity for tirelessly pursuing various pies in various skies, relentless endeavors repeated remorselessly (whose results range in reliability).
I recall a time in my life when my brand of audacity was to compose thoughtful and robust sentences. The verisimilitude and substance of said sentences was inconsequential, as long as I was doing something in the literary arts. This brazen approach yielded numerous charming products, some of which may contain the universe’s secrets when stretched out to a nanometer’s width (who knows?).
Nowadays, that zest has all but extinguished itself. The audacious spirit is suspended in amber, a fossilized vestige of my past humanity. But at least I have records of this triumphant hubris, because I WROTE IT DOWN. Just the way I’m writing down this little thought experiment right at this very moment. Period.
Ooh, how audacious. Might have to just keep writing these things in order to spite myself. If I’m defiantly demonstrating my worth as a wordsmith on a semi-frequent basis, perhaps I’ll once again perceive myself as such (instead of lollygagging around with some namby pamby excuse as to why I’m supposed to be a writer but the world around me is too fucked up for me, blah blah blah).
I suppose I’ll issue myself a challenge. Keep writing like this, ya moron. Don’t you remember how good it felt once you’d finished polishing up these turds and putting all the tags and categories on them? Yeah you do, especially when those turds had metamorphosed into some sort of precious mineral (or at least clean-burning fuel source).
Okay, good pep talk. Unsure if this is helpful for anyone out there in the big ol’ world, but if you’re feeling burnt out on “life”, maybe this naïvely cynical take will make you chuckle for a second.
Tag: Creative Writing
Yes, And
Improvisation without representation is definitely authorized in this club, though I don’t quite know how it’s supposed to be accomplished (at least without some corporeal manifestation hanging around on this mechanical rotating clothes rack we call the universe).
First off, you’re supposed to “yes, and” the opposition into submission as often as possible, which typically would require a physical body in space and time. However, perhaps a physical body needn’t be required if we piped a nice [tinny] audio stream into the room as the live interaction winds itself down.
But that all goes without stating the obvious: if the instigator of improvisational inquiry has no chunky terrestrial body of which to speak, then why should the foil of the piece remain a solid entity? That just puts the burden on them, don’t you see? Having all of those internal organs thinly covered by what’s basically just a fleshy layer of napkins (and not the two-ply kind)… it’s dangerous! I won’t stand for reckless endangerment in the name of creativity.
WHARVED 