Adikkal
Bluelighter
Well, i wrote this a while ago when i had glandular fever.
Just read it back today and it struck me, it's actually not half bad. So i thought i'd share and see what other people thought. Peace!
Simple text.
I have this feeling that i need to write. It has been a while, quite a while since i have etched my thoughts onto this electronic pad. Will these simply be my thoughts? I have a desire to write creatively, a story of sorts, however, i lack a vision. I need to write, but don't know what to write.
Is it the close proximity of my swollen, puss covered tonsils that is causing this mood? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. I think i'll open the blind, its a nice sunny afternoon and although its october, i am still sitting here in my hoody and tracksuit pants. Mother nature needs to know her place, she can't let the seasons have this free reign that they seem to be enjoying so much. I'm sorry winter, but it's time to go, fuck off, time to embrace the warmth.
Bring the warmth of summer.
Bring the vibes of summer.
Relaxed, parties, yes my memory takes me back to last year. This time last year as a school leaver, how different things were. Its strange that i can remember not just events and images, but what fills my mind is a general feeling of freedom and freshness. It was my infatuation, it was my entanglement, it was my forbidden love.
Warm evenings with a cool breeze, moonlight casting across her face. A look of helpless bewilderment, a look that could move me so much. A feeling. A game. The way i was played. It really would be an interesting story to tell.
If i had more skill with the words, perhaps i could do it justice however words become increasingly inappropriate to convey feelings, gestures and the subtleties of life. I have an enormous amount of respect for those wordsmiths who weave words into wonderous displays of emotive expression. To capture the complexities of emotions with the confined combinations of linguistic creations, it is.. an art.
So the throat is sore and the concentration span is small; with no set agenda the thoughts flow in what order they see fit. I write so i can read it back and analyse myself and my writing. Find those gaps, fill those gaps. Could i ever write a story? I used to enjoy writing short stories, they always had a quirky sense of humour in them, a certain flavour. The concept sits out there - i observe it whilst striking the 'thinking pose', could also be known as a contemplative stance. Which ever takes your fancy. It's time to up the ante.
Adikkal
Just read it back today and it struck me, it's actually not half bad. So i thought i'd share and see what other people thought. Peace!
Simple text.
I have this feeling that i need to write. It has been a while, quite a while since i have etched my thoughts onto this electronic pad. Will these simply be my thoughts? I have a desire to write creatively, a story of sorts, however, i lack a vision. I need to write, but don't know what to write.
Is it the close proximity of my swollen, puss covered tonsils that is causing this mood? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. I think i'll open the blind, its a nice sunny afternoon and although its october, i am still sitting here in my hoody and tracksuit pants. Mother nature needs to know her place, she can't let the seasons have this free reign that they seem to be enjoying so much. I'm sorry winter, but it's time to go, fuck off, time to embrace the warmth.
Bring the warmth of summer.
Bring the vibes of summer.
Relaxed, parties, yes my memory takes me back to last year. This time last year as a school leaver, how different things were. Its strange that i can remember not just events and images, but what fills my mind is a general feeling of freedom and freshness. It was my infatuation, it was my entanglement, it was my forbidden love.
Warm evenings with a cool breeze, moonlight casting across her face. A look of helpless bewilderment, a look that could move me so much. A feeling. A game. The way i was played. It really would be an interesting story to tell.
If i had more skill with the words, perhaps i could do it justice however words become increasingly inappropriate to convey feelings, gestures and the subtleties of life. I have an enormous amount of respect for those wordsmiths who weave words into wonderous displays of emotive expression. To capture the complexities of emotions with the confined combinations of linguistic creations, it is.. an art.
So the throat is sore and the concentration span is small; with no set agenda the thoughts flow in what order they see fit. I write so i can read it back and analyse myself and my writing. Find those gaps, fill those gaps. Could i ever write a story? I used to enjoy writing short stories, they always had a quirky sense of humour in them, a certain flavour. The concept sits out there - i observe it whilst striking the 'thinking pose', could also be known as a contemplative stance. Which ever takes your fancy. It's time to up the ante.
Adikkal
