I know at times it will seems as if I am the champion of a given writer, repeating the name or link over and over, but that is because when I find writer of quality, I believe they deserve a champion. These decisions are important; the current of prose must also grow, evolve, to stay connected to things, as words ossify all the time, so many happy for the rhetorical pose instead of a word connected to a real feeling. Every word is a struggle for meaning, as Bakhtin said, and I just happen to think thats a struggle worth joining.
Im prompted to this by the most honest thing Ive read in a while: a short blog entry on a website.
" I have a month left before I have my baby. I am excited, to see her face, and to have my body back.
It's been a long last couple of months, I'm still working, but now only for a couple of hours. It is difficult to stand on my feet for too long.
Everything has been going well, I am in love with a man that has treated me better then anyone else I have ever been with and I am thrilled to announce that we are engaged. I am still getting used to the thought, and sound of the "marriage" thing, I never thought that I would be anyones wife, but I'm glad that when I am going to be a wife, it will be to him."
That's from an sg journal. Quite moving.
You can feel the emotion she had when writing this; pure spontaneous feeling, not searching for the way to say it. The honest feeling of real positive change and growth, real evolution, finding that life could be more, better than she ever thought it could be, almost as if in the writing of her love she came to realize how much life could mean. She made those words her own, just as the struggle of her life made this love her own.
Words are best formed at the peaks; they are like the mountains summit. The tops of mountains are among the unfinished parts of the globe, wither it is an insult to the gods to climb and pry into their secrets, and try their effect on our humanity. Only daring and insolent men, perchance, go there. (Thoreau, The Maine Woods ).
Im prompted to this by the most honest thing Ive read in a while: a short blog entry on a website.
" I have a month left before I have my baby. I am excited, to see her face, and to have my body back.
It's been a long last couple of months, I'm still working, but now only for a couple of hours. It is difficult to stand on my feet for too long.
Everything has been going well, I am in love with a man that has treated me better then anyone else I have ever been with and I am thrilled to announce that we are engaged. I am still getting used to the thought, and sound of the "marriage" thing, I never thought that I would be anyones wife, but I'm glad that when I am going to be a wife, it will be to him."
That's from an sg journal. Quite moving.
You can feel the emotion she had when writing this; pure spontaneous feeling, not searching for the way to say it. The honest feeling of real positive change and growth, real evolution, finding that life could be more, better than she ever thought it could be, almost as if in the writing of her love she came to realize how much life could mean. She made those words her own, just as the struggle of her life made this love her own.
Words are best formed at the peaks; they are like the mountains summit. The tops of mountains are among the unfinished parts of the globe, wither it is an insult to the gods to climb and pry into their secrets, and try their effect on our humanity. Only daring and insolent men, perchance, go there. (Thoreau, The Maine Woods ).