I miss this

I know I know. I have been extremely slack. Trust me. I’m more disappointed than you are. I’d like to say there are several reasons for my lack of writing this year..  Travel. Adventure. Love. Drug overdose from a 72hour coke binge? Ha. I could be so lucky… But there isn’t. Writer’s block? perhaps. But no. Fear and loathing would be the reasons I associate with the scarcity of entries this year.

When I started up this blog almost 12 months ago, I really had no Idea what to expect. Or what to make of it. I’m pretty sure I only began the stupid fucking thing to impress some chick. Luckily, quickly soon after, I began to realise that it was indeed something I did thoroughly, truly enjoy. And by most accounts, It would seem that others may have too.

Strangely, I fell in love with the entire writing process. The initial Idea. The thought process. The execution of forming words into sentences. Forming those sentences into paragraphs. The opening. The body. The closing statement. All the shit you should have been paying attention to, in Ms. Higgin’s high school English class. I hated it back then. I fucking love it now.. Submitting a draft.  Proofreading said draft. Making a thousand amendments. Before finally, publishing. The moment you publish is still the best part. There’s an adrenalin rush in publishing something for others to read. There’s fear. Anguish. Excitement. Elation. All rolled into one. I cant really liken it to anything else. Kicking a winning goal? Taking a game winning shot? (I’ve done neither).. perhaps.

But even after It’s published, I’ll still re-read the finished product and submit more changes. There hasn’t been a single entry I’ve published so far (bar one), where I haven’t gone back, re-read, re-wrote, and re-submitted.

And that’s half the fun. Publishing for the third, fourth or sixteenth time is just as exciting as publishing on the first try. My record for changes, to an already published post, is sixteen. Searching for dirty thirty. My first post. I swear I’ve changed this one so much from the original, that I don’t even know what I was on about at the time. But the revisions are all part and partial with the process. There has only been one entry that I’ve published and let stand. The walk of shameStill to this day, my favourite one. Short. Sweet. Spot on. Nothing will encapsulate the moment as well as that beautiful piece of literary art. Yeah yeah ok. I wrote about getting laid. So of course it’s going to be my favourite one. Whatevs. But re-read it again. Its nothing short of genius. Nothing I have written has ever flowed so well. All of it written in one go… On a fucking tram no less.. The morning after indeed getting laid… Boom. Favourite.

And that is what I miss. Formulating words that encapsulate moments and events in time. Apparently, a picture tells a thousand words. Well.. I cant fucking draw.

When this whole writing thing started a year ago, someone asked  ‘whats the point of all this?’, ‘I don’t know’ I replied. ‘I just like the thought of leaving something behind’.

Now its just a matter of experiencing shit worth writing about.

 

 

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