Dramatise the simple
Not long before getting good at writing, I stopped. The immediate cause was a strong lust for loving someone with all my senses, a woman that I would eventually absorb entirely. This came after I realized that Bukowski was right, “You can’t love a woman and in the same time write a novel”. There are worse reasons to make major life decisions.
Now, she thinks that because I stopped writing I don’t love her anymore, I can understand that. In order to write this cascade of words I had to tell her this morning that I don’t love her anymore. She left for work with out saying “Have a nice day”.
Her thesis regarding my inactivity in writing is that I don’t feel anything anymore, that I became numb in more senses than one. But my thought is materialized as an antithesis to her thesis. I stopped writing because I started feeling to much, and this power of feeling has blocked my power of observation. In order to write you have to observe, absorb everything around you. Why do we absorb everything around us? To fill up a hole in our chest. In my case, this was full.
What I’m trying to say with this rubbish is that: I’m like my phone, the iPhone 3G, I’m not good on multitasking.
March 26, 2011 4:30 pm
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