In a gleeful secret clicking around oh the things one may find – the most enjoyable as journal entries.
Well, depending. It does depend on whether the journalist isn’t tumbling through their downward spiral until all thoughts are frayed and squirmy. There’s not much enjoyment in reading someone’s real-time obituary, unless it’s a spiritual resurrection sort of thing, a “here’s the new me” sort of thing. Next arc: you got to fix the mind after all, if you ever want something new.
However the entry goes the last thing you’d think about would be writing styles, no? What difference does it make? As if there was a style they’re adhering to…
But there isn’t. It’s, more often than not, an unfiltered lens into someone else’s mind, and the way that lens shapes itself is a part of the spectacle(s). However their thoughts congeal and however the words are dressed, the residuals of each meaning found in the author’s faded memories.
To those journalists – you know what’s a fun exercise? Avoid all use of the word “I”.
That word seems to be the gateway to sickness if you do flip through enough entries. With enough entries you’d possibly agree.
If one wants a renewal – if one wants to imagine space shuttles for homes, magic wands as daily carry, perhaps shape this world and make it so – so it stands that all thoughts related to that word are reinforcement mechanisms. Building the world one is in right now. Cradling the hurtful and distasteful the same as one’s delights, even if such delights stand on their own – no other subject needed.
Anyway, for some of the journalists that word makes them deathly ill. Purgatory, reinforcing rather ugly reflections that just aren’t true. You’re much better than you ever would admit. How humble you are!
Whenever that word crops up in these writings on pages here, it festers and gridlocks a comfortable flow, veering toward the cliff side. It’s a terrible sickness, and it doesn’t make much sense when you see how flimsy memories may be.
Though it is indeed strange… how attracted some are to that word when perusing around. New opinions, experiences, that word as a vehicle for your own self to go through the same as the one who wrote it, whatever the entry details.
You know what’s more interesting than that? A mutual ascent elsewhere. There’s at least two on this page (or a higher one combined) and that makes for a far more entertaining story: stories are best measured by the complexity of interactions, character – why not fashion a mecha out of all the participants?
It’s ironic. A good bit of topics using that word express how something is missing. Something bigger. Even though there’s company with every piece written. However they come along, perhaps a thousand years hence – still the same hand here holds out to shake forever the same.
If that’s too much, then let’s at least hone in another point: other topics begin to sprout when that fester-word is eradicated. Even if it all vaguely points to the same stuff, you can be sure it’s at least a fireworks view for a higher you and company too.
It may seem a little foreign and obsessively evasive – most definitely. But why have it any other way?
One could suppose this writing style is reserved for those who’ve descended too much using that word.
In due time maybe others will discover the same.