I'm tired. A mosquito spirals between me and the eggshell screen. I hate mosquitos. But I'm too tired to kill it. I am melodrama at its worst. Too sensitive to stand by my letters and scream bloody murder. I am a Snorlax with gland problems. I have no faith. Burned at the stake with a collection of stained bras. There's a smile in there somewhere.
The final hand of Rounders doesn't make sense. Grammar has no reason to be mad and if Mike was on a busted straight draw Teddy KGB has no reason to bet the river.
I am a fleshy ball of anxiety and prescription drugs.
500 words a day. Any words, whatever they may be. "You are an asshole" x 125. If I was a writer I would write. I am writing so I am a writer? I suppose I'm a breather and a pooper too. A watcher. A speaker. I am everything and nothing and everything in between.
Find the meaning behind the words then leave the letters behind. Mean is a noun, an adjective, and possibly even a verb:
"I mean to eat your face."
Though it's not really a verb, is it? It is a vacuous space where a verb might take place. "I had or have the intention to verb." Nothing really happens. It is potential. A vague promise that something might. What does that mean?
Four letter words can be so versatile.
What, for that matter, is meaning?
According to Google:
mean·ing
/ˈmēniNG/
Noun
Synonyms
|
Significance is something I can bite into. Significance is how something stands out in a greater context. I think.
sig·nif·i·cance
/sigˈnifikəns/
Noun
|
Rhetoric aside, what is significant to me? What matters? What could I not live without? Better question: what would I miss? Better question still: why am I trying to define this?
Life is significant to me. I like it.
Experience matters. Change matters. Exploration and surprise matters. Belief that there is always more to be discovered.
I could not live without... well, oxygen. Food, water etc. I could not live without change. I think I may have discovered something.
I don't miss much. I guess I miss Rob. Hey Rob. Probably as a source of comedy and thus surprise. It's hard to say what I would miss in the future. Probably a lot.
Defining things in words is, while on the one hand kind of futile, on the other an exploration of feeling. I am trying to define this because I feel a lack, an empty patch in my soul that needs stitching. It seems to me that this exploration of the problem is almost a solution in itself. Expression. A need to bring the ambiguous mass of feelings into the light. A big throbbing knot that needs to be untangled.
I don't want to write stories. I feel like I am being manipulative. I want to express and entertain and share, but not through some contrived premise. I want it to be natural and flowing. Free from tendril'd fingers. Full of real feeling and emotion, bending and breaking through the iron pillars of form. Maybe I can keep the veil thin. Speak honestly through my characters, each one living out a little portion of my soul. Let all those dark, secret desires be fulfilled by the creatures of my imagination.
Where is my mind?
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