writers

i have been reading julian may’s many coloured land.
on completion of the second book i am almost bored.  almost.  they are wonderfully written, the story is quite good.  julian seems to take him(her? i remember finding out once, but at present are too lazy to once again)self too seriously.  in doing so, none of the events are terribly memorably, nor any of the characters ones to love or hate.  they all seem terribly dull.  a far cry from the perseus spur series, which had memorable moments all over it and absolutely lovable characters in plentiful supply.
that being said – look at the way i’m crafting this entry.  at the risk of appearing to insert my own head into my rectum, i’ll stop bullshitting.  writers just seem to take themselves far too seriously.  i love a good drama etc. but i don’t know – an over obsession with trying to be dramatic perhaps?  to be too minimalist (myself) or too ground-breaking?  too funny?
too clever like this entry?
i don’t know – which is why i am writing less these days.  i’m sure i’ll get back into it, but until i quit focussing on the form rather than the content, there really is no point.  i have noticed myself backsliding in my other diary containing only pieces (call the poems if you really must).

by no means is true form dead – it just takes more of a different kind of effort to pull-off well without sounding like crap.
the end.

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Commentary
March 16, 2010

Those sign-offs are really starting to irritate me now.

Some time in 2008 I would stop reading all-together. I still don’t. I read children’s books, and sometimes re-read the novels I know I love, but reading new material is extremely difficult, mostly due to me being extremely fussy as to how I receive exposition. Vroenis is a good example of where I’m at, and as you may be able to imagine, anything more than that is perceived as excessive. That excludes a hell of a lot of literature.