Return.
How awkward this fumbling start.
The words come out choppy staccato-like, harshly I would say a bumbling idiot. In mercy, I would blame my now handicapped brain - riddled with the bullets holes of business theory. I figure – their semi-welcomed assault dulled my sensitivities. Grey nuances have become strangers, and the words to capture them, extraterrestrial. Verbal Tactile, yes, she has gone far away, too far. I wonder if I have lost it. That lyrical quality all gone – but then again, maybe I was never the writer with beautiful, melodious notes which mime as words and weave syntax into masterpieces. That’s how I fancy/fancied myself after coming across a blog, with a such a soul searing quality that struck through the calluses of commercial practicality which has become ingrained like the cost-benefit analysis process that is automatically launched with each tick in my head.
But you know, I think I was never that kind of writer.
Wit, humor and a little tartness of the aftertaste of angst – that was me. Irreverent, maybe.
I am determined to find her again – it’s me, a composite of my soul. Words are far more an essence of me than any Valuation Model would ever be. I cannot continue lying to myself and I won’t.
Come back to me, wordsmith-self. Losing you was definitely not worth the rate of return.
The words come out choppy staccato-like, harshly I would say a bumbling idiot. In mercy, I would blame my now handicapped brain - riddled with the bullets holes of business theory. I figure – their semi-welcomed assault dulled my sensitivities. Grey nuances have become strangers, and the words to capture them, extraterrestrial. Verbal Tactile, yes, she has gone far away, too far. I wonder if I have lost it. That lyrical quality all gone – but then again, maybe I was never the writer with beautiful, melodious notes which mime as words and weave syntax into masterpieces. That’s how I fancy/fancied myself after coming across a blog, with a such a soul searing quality that struck through the calluses of commercial practicality which has become ingrained like the cost-benefit analysis process that is automatically launched with each tick in my head.
But you know, I think I was never that kind of writer.
Wit, humor and a little tartness of the aftertaste of angst – that was me. Irreverent, maybe.
I am determined to find her again – it’s me, a composite of my soul. Words are far more an essence of me than any Valuation Model would ever be. I cannot continue lying to myself and I won’t.
Come back to me, wordsmith-self. Losing you was definitely not worth the rate of return.
posted by nubilewordsmith at 1:24 AM
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