It would appear, sometimes, that what I write is mostly for effect. That I’m purposefully trying to just elicit a reaction. Believe me. This isn’t the case. I can say this because I’ve tried forcing things before and it’s ugly. It truly comes out as thoughtless and nearing vulgarity. Not just in word, but in form. It’s like a haphazardly created clay animal. Mismatched limbs, eyes spread and on different latitudes, a tube for a torso. Rushed and without a breath of elegance. “You forgot the tail,” it says, but you present it anyway.
I’d like to think that I do get a certain uncooked feel to things. Like ground beef starting to brown a little. Still edible, but you think you’d better hurry cause it’s gonna turn at an unexpected time in the very near future.
Language and tone and intent are so easy to get wrong. What I think I am saying, the emotions I wish to convey, what the words say and the thoughts that remain in my mind are sometimes no closer than peace in the Middle East. I hope on the good days that I get it more right than wrong. At best, my record is like that of the Buffalo Bills, 9-7, 8-8, some years 6-10. I just hope to create as naive a fan base.
This morning I had a choice. To meditate with some stupid app or write out how I felt about last nights little tantrum of a post. To consider it and to push to write with more carnality. To write with purpose, perhaps without a giant point to prove.
Yes, you can eat raw steak and apparently it’s a delicacy. I’ll pass for a filet and chance that I’ll cook it correctly.
The Bills were 6-10 last year and their quarterback made $4.8 million, I’m gonna need everyone reading this to pony up a couple bucks. I mean at least I’m trying.