What is an author-da-fé?
It is a faith I have in my own inability to continue my procrastination in regards achieving my creative writing goals. I am a heretical author: a writer who has not written anything in a good many years. My God is Paul Varjak. I take some comfort in knowing I am one of a great throng worshiping him in the bars, cafés and bus stops all over the word wherever a pretty girl can be chatted up. This religion is a haven for mediocrity within the arts that is second only to the main branch that serves the many waiters/actors and porn stars. I would say the no talents but that would be imprecise because many of us sadly have the talent but all of us lack the impetus. We are what Casanova would have been were he castrated.
My goal, you may inquisit, is to become a heretic of this faith. Yes, I intend today to actually stop loitering in the room where the women come and go talking of Michelangelo and actually create something. God knows what because Paul Varjak knows not. Perhaps I just wish to create anything; to give but one simple worship to the Tempter as I am led by the spirit onto the heights of penmanship after a very long creative fast.
Or perhaps this will be a short lived burst of pretentious crap? If so, it does not matter. Paul Varjak does not mind. He will welcome me back to the throng in his worship with his affable indifference.
Every charlatan knows that a writer must write. So this blog is to aid me in that - to give me some proof positive. It is not to be a coherent running essay on a topic. It is not to be a novel. In fact, I take a certain perverse delight in designing this blog's appellation so that no one will read it except me. I do have two stories imprisoned in my mind but I have not written a meaningful word about either, as is my habit. Since my habits are hard to break, this is an electronic place for those unmeaningful words to gather in practice waiting for the day when meaningful words take their place on a printed page. I am sure this will be a tedious everyday eventuality.
My current situation mirrors Paul Varjak in the most key way: Mrs. Failenson. In my particular case, my little Benefactrix is a Ms. and lives with me in a contemptuous parasitic love affair that threatens to auto asphyxiate us. Thus, proving once again we can die by it, if not live by love. And if unfit for tomb or hearse our legend be, it will be fit for verse. And if no piece of chronicle we prove, we'll build in sonnets pretty rooms. So much for my education. Well, what's Donne is done.
If this experiment is successful, I will be writing everyday. If I am not writing to become an author on paper then I will be writing electronically here to test the limits of my procrastination. Whereas I will be writing creatively for paper, I will be writing as close to the truth here as possible so that it serves a purpose for me in reading it backwards.
My Benefactrix makes keeping a personal diary anywhere else but on the anonymous Web an impossible achievement. Parasites, regarding their own self interest, do not mean to harm the host but they often do. It is in their nature I suppose.
It is a faith I have in my own inability to continue my procrastination in regards achieving my creative writing goals. I am a heretical author: a writer who has not written anything in a good many years. My God is Paul Varjak. I take some comfort in knowing I am one of a great throng worshiping him in the bars, cafés and bus stops all over the word wherever a pretty girl can be chatted up. This religion is a haven for mediocrity within the arts that is second only to the main branch that serves the many waiters/actors and porn stars. I would say the no talents but that would be imprecise because many of us sadly have the talent but all of us lack the impetus. We are what Casanova would have been were he castrated.
My goal, you may inquisit, is to become a heretic of this faith. Yes, I intend today to actually stop loitering in the room where the women come and go talking of Michelangelo and actually create something. God knows what because Paul Varjak knows not. Perhaps I just wish to create anything; to give but one simple worship to the Tempter as I am led by the spirit onto the heights of penmanship after a very long creative fast.
Or perhaps this will be a short lived burst of pretentious crap? If so, it does not matter. Paul Varjak does not mind. He will welcome me back to the throng in his worship with his affable indifference.
Every charlatan knows that a writer must write. So this blog is to aid me in that - to give me some proof positive. It is not to be a coherent running essay on a topic. It is not to be a novel. In fact, I take a certain perverse delight in designing this blog's appellation so that no one will read it except me. I do have two stories imprisoned in my mind but I have not written a meaningful word about either, as is my habit. Since my habits are hard to break, this is an electronic place for those unmeaningful words to gather in practice waiting for the day when meaningful words take their place on a printed page. I am sure this will be a tedious everyday eventuality.
My current situation mirrors Paul Varjak in the most key way: Mrs. Failenson. In my particular case, my little Benefactrix is a Ms. and lives with me in a contemptuous parasitic love affair that threatens to auto asphyxiate us. Thus, proving once again we can die by it, if not live by love. And if unfit for tomb or hearse our legend be, it will be fit for verse. And if no piece of chronicle we prove, we'll build in sonnets pretty rooms. So much for my education. Well, what's Donne is done.
If this experiment is successful, I will be writing everyday. If I am not writing to become an author on paper then I will be writing electronically here to test the limits of my procrastination. Whereas I will be writing creatively for paper, I will be writing as close to the truth here as possible so that it serves a purpose for me in reading it backwards.
My Benefactrix makes keeping a personal diary anywhere else but on the anonymous Web an impossible achievement. Parasites, regarding their own self interest, do not mean to harm the host but they often do. It is in their nature I suppose.
Not bad. My first post. I can feel the adrenaline already. I better lie down before I strain something important.
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