Rambling while exhausted. Don’t take any of this shit seriously.
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As I lie here and write I am struck by the absolute lethargic, unproductiveness of it all. I have decided that writing in Darkroom is much better than writing in other programs only because it cuts out many of the distractions that often hamper my creativity. Distractions such as spelling.
Spelling suggestions are one of the worst inventions of all time. I simply see one and can’t write another word, another LETTER, until it is corrected. This is unacceptable as it interrupts my entire train of thought. Even now, as I write with no frills, no buttons, nothing but a couple of arrows to bring me up and down and a cursor to tell me where I’m writing, I am vexed at every word about which I am unclear as to the spelling. If I’m not wholly sure about the spelling I still pause slightly. It is not, however, enough to completely interrupt me in the way that knowing that the word is wrong and has been earmarked for correction before the document has even been read.
I have no idea why I’m writing any of this down. Beer is absent from the house and I have been severely tired and uncreative of late. I don’t know what; exactly I had hoped to gain by this elaborate typing exercise. It certainly isn’t a story. I could write a plot synopsis on Beta Testing, or I could brainstorm ideas for Immortality, but for some reason, I find myself unable to follow my own advice and be productive. This is absolutely moronic as I’m sitting here right now not even gaining any appreciable experience outside of the fact that I’m actually putting my thoughts down on … well, it’s not paper, but they are down. Manifest, if you will. I try to concentrate but even as I write I begin to blur and lose concentration. I’m slowly falling asleep even as I write. And write WHAT? WHAT am I doing? Why am I doing it? Will I publish it? Delete it? Save it? WHAT GOOD WOULD ANY OF THIS DO? Oh well, I like the sensation of typing. It feels good to type. Typing when you have something to type about is great. Not the usual affair of writing fiction which is slow and in many cases, sporadic. The constant pauses and blocks as you have to stop to find something else to say. Something clever. HAHA like THAT ever really happens. You can THINK you’re being clever quite often, but for many writers, they only think they MIGHT be being clever. The proof is in posterity. All that uncertainty, revision, and back peddling takes time. Thus the writing process when an actual goal is involved can be much slower than the typing that I’m doing right now. This seems to be the same case in politics. Such as the debates.
John McCain and Barrack Obama had a debate the other night and I have to say, I’m nonplussed. McCain isn’t a great orator in the first place, but Obama was at a slight disadvantage by the fact that he has a knack for speaking. Much like my typing. He has a knack for making something sound good and easy when he has more time for preparation. However, when he is trying to lay out issues, about which he may be quite knowledgeable, he comes off as much slower. However, in the long run, that may work in his favor. Remember, dear reader, (if you exist which I greatly suspect you don’t) that one of the main reasons cited for the passing over of the very intellectual and experienced John Kerry in favor of a slavering political beast rutting and eating and shitting in public and getting paid for it, was that Kerry was too articulate during the debates. He came off as being “too smart.” God forbid that we are run by a man who takes thoughtful and considered action rather than rash “cowboy” tactics that have no possibility of working in the long run. Ah so it’s to become a political rant now is it? Obviously I’ve been reading too much Hunter S. Thompson lately. I’ll have to correct that by ingesting a healthy dose of aspirin and alcohol and sleeping for approximately 48 hours. After that I should be able to be interested in other things like, I don’t know space ships and dinosaurs again. And I know about the jokes you’re all thinking of regarding the similarity between McCain and Dinosaurs. Let’s leave Barrack and the space ships out of it too. I’m speaking of things which have nothing to do with presidential politics. Because they make me want to be violently sick. They make me want to slowly melt, eyeballs rolling out into the spreading pile of goo, internal organs slowly turning to jelly amid the mass of loosening clothing as it sags on my decalcifying skeleton. And when I’m a puddle of orange and pink goo on the floor I will no longer be able to be affected by the sheer stupidity and hypocrisy of presidential politics.
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