let me tell you of the raven's sins.

Reading: some shitty Internet news.
Listening to: bread seller, rooster, the wind, the wind.
Last watched: Scorpion.
Mood: abandoned.
2014 October xx, 6:42 AM.

Friday, February 17, 2012

So Prototype


How many of you failed to notice that I only talk to you to collect writing ideas?

Whether you are a family member, a love interest, a friend, an Internet contact, it doesn't matter. People are my main source of literary specimens. Nothing more. Do memorize this fact in your forgetfully naive mind. I am using you. And everyone else. Sometimes I get bored and I do uncanny things. This is one of them. Creepy. I know.

Nothing shall be outrageous. (I hope.) I try my very best to keep things neutral. Sanitized. When I sound a little too out-of-line, that's only cause you are easily shocked. Not my fault. You just need to understand that some people live in an environment that nurtures unusual tolerance for extremities. Add two hippie Muslim parents to that, and you have me. You won't be the first to call me crazy. Or strange. Or abnormal.

Everything I do is an implication of my poetic training. Some kind of a poetic license. Verbalized or actualized. Oh, why am I making excuses for my emotional disturbance? This is inappropriate for a thirty-one year old. But according to the artistic Mr Darren Hayes, we have therapists to justify our behaviors.

I trust I'm making myself clear.

At work, I am very "sane". I mean, I am known to be responsible and dedicated and approachable. Or I just assume I am. I don't know. I don't deliberately ask people what they think of me. That kind of interrogation doesn't intrude much in daily conversations. Since I can't risk appearing foolish, I have to maintain a professional reputation.

Still, I treat the people at work, or any other place, the same. They are the inspiration for my stories. My prose. My poetry. I believe any writer does an exact consistency like this. It's just something we do. Like a biological instinct. An impulsive process in our brains. We can't turn it off.

My best advice is never to take my words to heart. I'm only humorless when working (teaching, not writing). Outside that domain, I'm a complete mess.



Thursday, February 16, 2012, 10:04 PM –
Friday, February 17, 2012, 2:08 AM
So prototype is from Darren Hayes's song "The Only One".
Next novel

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