It is a universal truth, I’ll have you know, that all things have a start. It would appear as Chris - is quite ready to show us that they even appear in the middle of a challenge. This of course leads to chaos, which, if you think about it, is just what you get if the characters in a story step outside of it, two realities interacting becomes a cacophony of sound. Rock music indeed. It is rather apt though, don’t you think, some rock music can supply you with mind bending lyrics that take hours of contemplation and even when you have an answer they may not be Crystal – clear. As I type this up sitting on a park bench, I read a story about a writer sitting on a park bench, I try my hardest to review their movements, to guess what story they are writing. Confused yet? I was about six comments ago. And if that seemed confusing what if your writing started talking back to you, and what if you were writing about Americans, but as an English writer and those creations had the audacity to argue spelling!!! I mean that can only warp the mind and lead to all kinds of sarcasm. What kind of twisted soul could come up with that, eh MB?
What we all need is a gentle reminder that there is more to writing than just a man and machine, Jastius – is more than happy to remind us of the plural, for we should not forget the humble printer. How else would words tumble from the digital to printed page? But have we ever felt how the printer feels, eh? That slow erosion of ink, the degradation of print, the need for more. And having to pay for them of course. After you have taken out a loan. Ahh colour. I think I might be being drawn I a little deep this month. What is needed is a little disassociation, why thank you Phyre - we have it. Well it seems to be, but it’s another one that drags my spiralling sanity down the drain. To disconnect himself from what he is trying to do a man refers to himself in another contexts, just so he can kill himself – even though it is his dark conscience that is willing him on. I’ll just plead insanity. I sit here typing on a white screen, trying to fill it up. But there is no surcease, that screen will always remain white, laughing at me, no matter how I fill it there will be always that vast emptiness the next time I open it up. Laughing at me. Great idea – A Fare. Wells, it might even be pulling me back from the edge.
And then we have Bob – Bob is a great guy, but if anyone was going to reopen the mind-bending it would be him. I mean someone telling a story about living in someone else, while the other might be a writer telling a story, before he write… a… a… masterpiece.
I'm a bit behind on the comments this month, and fear that I might be losing a bit of the cohesion of the earlier comments as I progress, if such a word can be said to apply to them. Having a few minor health issue that are more distracting than anything else, but are keeping me away from the screen a bit. I'll try to keep up. Or even catch up.