The blogger world has gone quiet. This one I know, anyway. Are we all out of things to write about? Or are we too busy with actually living to manage the time to write about it? I can only speak for myself and it's more the first one than the latter in my case.
That, and I've been reading. And I'm jealous. I'm jealous of people capable of capturing the atmosphere, the air, the tension, emotions, unspoken words and fears and feelings in a way I could never capture them myself. How can I write about my day when it sounds lifeless and dry? I wish I had it in me, the ways of breathing life into words, making them make you laugh, tremble, sweat, cry. And I don't. What am I doing? This is worthless. Let me just be an observer, a reader, the one that consumes, not creates. As if anything else was possible.
For when you have the time to see what I mean: Have you seen him whom my soul loves
I can't do that. But God, how I wish I could!
(Never mind that I'm going to Hell for reading it. lol)
That, and I've been reading. And I'm jealous. I'm jealous of people capable of capturing the atmosphere, the air, the tension, emotions, unspoken words and fears and feelings in a way I could never capture them myself. How can I write about my day when it sounds lifeless and dry? I wish I had it in me, the ways of breathing life into words, making them make you laugh, tremble, sweat, cry. And I don't. What am I doing? This is worthless. Let me just be an observer, a reader, the one that consumes, not creates. As if anything else was possible.
For when you have the time to see what I mean: Have you seen him whom my soul loves
I can't do that. But God, how I wish I could!
(Never mind that I'm going to Hell for reading it. lol)
6 spoke back:
Yah...the sex is hot.
That's all.
Wow.
You've missed my point completely.
I understand where you're coming from. I thought once that I could do it too. I even got some nice compliments, but then I read these stories by teenagers (probably), about some stupid actors on some stupid tv show, and they knew how to write so I could feel it, and it made me feel so many things and shit. I know I can write something that makes sense, and is sexy even, but if I can't write like that (http://smokeringhalos.livejournal.com/11154.html), then why write at all?
And about the blog, it's everything. I've been extremely busy, but also, I don't feel I have any more to tell than what I've already told, unless I go digging places I don't want to lay open. Or be read by certain people. Plus, some writers have the extraordinary talent to craft ordinary (non-)events into beautiful prose, but I am not one of them.
I hear you, Bel. I really do.
(And I'm just reading smokeringhalos. :D)
No I choose to comment on something else than the absence of new entries in the world of blogging.
I know, you ho, like there's anything you care about but sex EVER.
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