Writing is visceral and deliberate. This thread is a deliberate retread of a deliberate thread made a year and almost two weeks past. Yet this new thread seeks a more visceral approach to the same subject though in a broader cloth. But this is neither this nor that but whatever it is interpreted to be. Although, should anyone ever utter the word context in this thread, they shall be held in contempt and have their complimentary brushes snapped. You are the context. It is your opinion. I seek not to wave nor the wave of hands in the air, rather to distill the abstract, visceral not deliberate.
It isn't impossible not to write. (It's far harder to draw.) It isn't harder not to write than it is to write. It's harder not to think. It's harder not to think in a way that wants to be expressed (but if voice is an art, then not all of us have it). This is not entirely a matter of ego. Writing is an acquired inherent need. It is acquired, not innate. The need to express is innate. The need to write is acquired. How it came to be, I don't know, but...
I love the sight and sound of words, the nuances of rhythm, tone, and flow. I enjoy how they fit together synergetically (or is that synergistically? The difference between obstinacy, obstinance, obstinancy, obstinateness, and obstination?). I enjoy the way words interplay; the way they constrict and liberate the unvoiced mind; the way they transcend dots and dashes, curves and slashes; the way they are the port and home, a house of thoughts; and the way they come to be.
How else to play the ear and mind in ways the same? and exactly the same? No two persons are so alike that they cannot be distinguished.
It's all about what you want, but not what you need; it's all about that generalised morale; that modern utilitarianism; that vitriol in God's tea cup; that consequence based ethic. It's all about that fruit that eats itself, that sky that's folding on itself until there's nothing but an infitesimal speck of azure standing on an immense, colorless but tangible void. Even that remaining shard is pallid; it's only reflecting as much as much as it wants, not as much it needs. The void absorbs all the remaining ether, as it should...
The universe is shaped exactly like a planet, a planet is shaped exactly like a person, a person is shaped exactly like the universe; if you go straight long enough, you'll end up where you were. Which stream is not blessed, which river's not God. Water flow, but it's always there, like the traits I draw. Ubiquity's possible for each of us, given that we are our own solar systems. It is not hard in a world where all is set in motion by sheer egoism. What action's not one of pure narcissism in a world where everybody claim what they want...
Well, here's the most visceral writting I could come up with, given that I'm not an english ^^. Now please, more gantitudinal platitudes, you're fascinating.
omeone answer the question or I shall unleash more Gantitudinal platitudes in logorrheic Gantilogues.
A question that I neither fully understand, or are prepared to answer, but attempt to answer it I will. My excuse is: I too love the written word, not for the same reasons as you, but for what it stands for in my mind: a continuity, a flow of hopes and ideas without which we would be nothing, and a method of creation so perfectly imperfect that it is in itself poetic. I no longer truly know who I am, I discover more of myself daily, but what has always stood constant in my mind is my wish to discover order. Order is to me, the most logical of things, what could be more logical than the way things are simply meant to be? My answer to that: nothing and everything. We as humans constantly redefine what is meant to be and will not stop. I no longer seek order, - as I have found it as it pertains to me- and now simply wish to gain knowledge. Knowledge of how the world works, why it does so, of people's opinions and beliefs, what could make them hold these beliefs so closely? I may... differ in my pursuits now and again, this is, after all, only recreational, but this is who I am. My username is: A word that represents myself like none may, simply because I choose it to. The same word that I no longer hold to have it's original meaning, but means the same nevertheless. My username is pHacon, and I'm not even sure I did this right.
Mind. Blown. I got some of Gantics, then got lost, then got it again, then got lost. Almost got fallens, but alas, got lost. I think I got pHacons, but I dont get what your supposed to do. Might someone simplfy this for the rest of us? or just me?
wai wai wai wait. So you answer the question in a poetic form. What is your interpretation of writing? I feel so stupid for not getting this. It is probably something completely obvious, but I am over thinking the possibilities of the meanings.
