If it amuses...

On Literature

I watch the steady decline of language, the distortion of what we call writing, in growing horror. I fear the day when communication consists of a series of grunts, abbreviations and emoticons, when we mourn the loss of true literature. I would rather depart such a cold and artless world than reside within it. For what is a wordsmith when his art lies in ruins? When the words, the tools of his trade, lie mangled and twisted beyond use or recognition?

I live for those rare gems of literature, those layered tales, those journeys, thought-provoking and new. Though few and far between, these tales give me hope for the future, hope that life will stir amongst the ashes of literature, and be born anew.

Leave an ‘easy read’ to the rest of the world, look to those tales that give you pause, look to those that induce thought, question, debate, for only that which raises questions, gives answers.

Picking the Pointless Battle

There are two reasons I am terrible at fighting with people, and two reasons I am the WORST person to pick a fight with:

One, I can have a terrible memory and will probably not remember what we were arguing about to begin with.

Two, my mind is fickle and my attention span is short, I’m easily bored, I rarely concentrate on one thing (like being angry) for very long, nor do I particularly care to. My life is overwhelmingly composed of tangents and much of what I learn is born out of digression. An argument with me is no more straightforward.

So learn your lessons and learn them now. Don’t pick a fight with me, I’ll get distracted early on and you’ll be left behind wondering what the fuck just happened.

…

Incidentally, this is one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever seen.

Boundaries … learn em

You touch my stuff or go near my room again, I will remove your fingers and force feed them to you.

Born human, I too have the capacity to decide if and when my possessions need to be disposed of, a power that, being my possessions, I believe should be reserved for me.

… Oooh, am I a little irritated, perhaps?