The Mortican's Son
owns a small typewriter
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Titus Supreme
I've had the nastiest headache all day. Too much work for one man who isn't accustomed to doing so much. Plus I gotta keep gulping down water to get whatever is currently in my system, out. Perfectionism doesn't work well when you're prone to quit. Writing a paper today, I recognized that it was shit; absolute shit. I 'selected all' and jammed the delete key — the modern day equivalent to crumpling up a sheet of paper*— and started over...
Very bad idea. I dunno what you call a writer who works on a simple four-page essay for 6 hours, just to delete it and start over. An egoist, perhaps? Regardless, let me tell you what, after 6 hours of writing, there's very little inspiration left in your fingertips. But, it's due tomorrow. So you trudge and craft until it makes sense. You get two pages in, and it's perfect. Now how do you bullshit those next two?
I dunno. Call me a quitter, I don't give a horse's ass. In todays society, trying is a hot waste of time. You think those fellas with the blue suits and dark brown ties have ever tried a day in their life? If they did, I swear, it must be hard.
That's a point.
*I still write 90% of my works on paper in composition notebooks with a ball-point pen.
1 Comments:
Anonymous said...
Testing to see if I can comment you, but also to comment on the fact that you still write papers in a composition book. Ridic.
