Thursday Jun 02, 2005

0


Words. Don't mess with Words.

In another liftime I was called an intellectual (yeah, I know - I don't get it either).

And it was because I had some skill with words.

I was a published author at 16 (poetry), I also wanted to be a journalist once. What I lacked in cleverness I made up for with above average research skill.

Words. Don't mess with words.

In this other lifetime, I was also very sad. I had a hard time fitting in anywhere. I played some sports, studied music, tried to learn how to act... The only thing I got out of any of that were some letters and a passing grade.

And now, look what I've sunk to.

Being called sanctimonius and compared to a Nazi skinhead.

Is this true?

Words.

I'm no longer an intellectual (gasp), I stopped writing poetry (no one cares). But I still mess with words. I use them cavalierly, sometimes thoughtlessly. And this makes me sad too. Because I loved words and now I feel nothing.

Don't do what I do: Beware of Words.





cannibal:
And do you now fit in?
My friend, who is still intellectual, writes for magazines, only read by intellectuals. Says he missed out on everything coz of Words.
Don't...
secretsquirrel:
I hate words. They always escape me. I've tried catching them, but I'm too damn slow. I've developed a theory in which my lack of skill as a wordsmith is caused by the fact that words have conspired against me and seek to destroy me. The theory's a crock of bullshit, but it makes me giggle like a school girl when I think about it. I make myself laugh far more often than I make others laugh. That's probably not a good thing.

So did the naked lady get her drink or what?

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