new year…new numbers…same shit there’s nothing worth a dime to write about just like before and yet here I am hacking away at the keyboard hoping to put a semblance of sense between these words. i’ve thrown away the formality of using capital letters. i’ve thrown away the shackles of indentations…i’ve deconstructed the concept of writing aesthetically in favor of writing more personally and most important of all, i’m writing for the sake of filling up the empty space generated by this utterly neglected blog…talk about horror vacui in a literary sense…that overwhelming compulsion in art to fill up empty spaces with morsels of images…like the victorian compulsion to clutter house interiors with dizzying details…that irrationally (and bordering on psychotic) tendency of outsider artists to make sure that every space is utilized to the fullest…
since this is my sole purpose in writing, does this make me an outsider writer? Is there even such a term? ask wikipedia.
com.ments