To what domain should I devote my pen? To verse where I betray my ignorance? For I to put these words on blogging, sense Is strained by hackneyed turns of phrase—what then? Oh Muse! Betray me not! This dalliance Is but a metered post occasioned when The A to Z endeavor strikes again A block on all my words. And so I hence State: I am giving up writing iambic pentameter....
Apply nose.
I confess! I have many fears: fear of death; fear of illness; fear of embarrassing myself; fear of letting people down; fear of heights; fear of spiders; fear of being stupid; fear of intimacy; fear of ending up alone; fear of the dark; fear of food poisoning; fear of ridicule; fear of failing…. They’re all irrational, and many are contradictory. That’s the nature of fear. It fucks with you. It makes you hesitate....
“The problem with the School of Hard Knocks,” they say, “is that the final exam comes first, and then the lesson comes after.” I am a student of this school. No, don’t ask for an ID card. No cards are necessary in this school. We enroll ourselves, and if we flunk, that’s on us. How do you flunk? You fail to learn the lesson. What about the exam, you ask?...
So often our language becomes so bland it feels like it’s been diluted with chicken milk. Or expelled from one’s dupa. It’s enough to make you schmerf. Supposably, with a blurp of inspiration, language can be epicaltastic and embiggen one’s imagination. “Fantabulous!” people will cry as they bow to your prose. Irregardless, one must be careful, or risk embodying obnoxity, which may result in ginormous embarrassment and leave friends flustrated....