Poets and writers drink more intensely. Smoke more intensely. Worship God more intensely. Poets and writers fuck more intensely. Poets and writers give more willingly-- spilling the alphabetical marrow of their souls out into the albino sonogram of hope that is the page, hoping some stranger whom he or she has never before met turns to his crafted syllables in time of dire need and somehow finds solace, finds laughter finds a friend.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
Creative Stump.....
(Nuff said).....even literary loners are suspect to an occasional drought....Trying to find moisture in a spiritual sahara.....
Doing lots better...thanks....I think as writers our only job is to go to the well everyday and see what that bucket inside of us reels up. Yesterday I dipped the bucket inside of me as deep as I could and it reeled up sand, ashes, lonliness (braught on by too much work). Today the words are starting to splatter on the page and the bucket is maybe brimming with a few potent shots of creative tonic.
See you in Worthington's class tomorrow. I LOVE Alice Walker!
1 comment:
Doing lots better...thanks....I think as writers our only job is to go to the well everyday and see what that bucket inside of us reels up. Yesterday I dipped the bucket inside of me as deep as I could and it reeled up sand, ashes, lonliness (braught on by too much work). Today the words are starting to splatter on the page and the bucket is maybe brimming with a few potent shots of creative tonic.
See you in Worthington's class tomorrow. I LOVE Alice Walker!
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