Tuesday, January 09, 2007

One man's trash...

This hasn’t happened in a while. Sure I’ve suffered a little performance anxiety before (c’mon who hasn’t) but I haven’t had writers block for ages it seems. Maybe it’s time to retire el chupacabras. Maybe he’s a little old and stale and needs to be put out to pasture. I mean, he’s navigated me thus far, accomplished a lot. I moved through depression, loneness, eating disorders and back again and now I’m pretty happy with where I’m at. Maybe he’s no longer needed.

Perhaps a fresh start is in order. Perhaps a more sincere, less unabashed venue to say what I really feel is required. Perhaps my criticism of myself as of late was a severing of me from my artistic vehicle. In which case I’m sad, I did enjoy it. Through you I found a lot of self confidence, even if I didn’t show it in person. I liked being read, it made me feel good. I loved comments; I was torn apart by criticism. I got into it. I soaked it up and bumbled callously through life and spit it out.

However the greatest conversation I ever had were in my head as I turned and walked away. Only after staring at quivering lips and eyes welling up with tears would I find the exact words to comfort some poor soul. Unfortunately they would all too often end up here, insulated far from where they could do any good. What good is a mythical creature if it can't even bring at least a little bit of joy to those around them?

For all your flare and panache, you sure leave a lot to be desired chuppy.


At 4:54 PM, Anonymous hypocritical feminist said...

You can't stop! You're not ready for pasture. Who would fill the zombie gap in the blogosphere?

Please don't leave me. I couldn't handle the loss.

At 5:42 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Perhaps you should just let a good thing be and carry on as you are.


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