I am a festering puss gland filled with the vile putrescence of neglectivity. There is something dishearteningly dissuasive about graduating with a Creative Writing degree when it comes to actually doing any writing. The whole idea of this blog was to get me used to writing on a regular basis. Instead it has acted as an avenue for the occasional musing or to grouse about Christianity.
My point is this: no more! I got together with a chum of mine today, who is one of my writerly friends, and though I was fully aware I'd been avoiding what is supposed to be my life and driving passion, the sad truth of it hadn't fully struck me until I admitted it to a kindred spirit.
I have allowed myself to sink into the drudgery of the sleep-eat-work routine. Today marks the day that I try and shimmy and shake my way out of it. Hear me blag, and hear me good: I'muh gonna write you up nice. I's gonna whisper sweet somethings into your ear and fill you with the turgidity of muh words. Brace yourself, it's about to get erudite all up in this bitch.
Respek.
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1 comment:
Power to the people! Congratulations; you've finally begun to come to terms with your own creative stagnation. I'm still ignoring mine!
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