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May 2011



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May. 19th, 2011


Words are a magnificent thing, they have a power all their own, I understand that in many ways by saying such a thing one would then assume that verbal insults could be listed in the same category, however this in my opinion is simply not the case. Words that have power are those borne of passion, fire and a desire to embody the description of a thought with such potency that the reader or listener cannot help but feel most exquisitely the same sensation that the creator of the words themselves did feel.

My thirst for words has grown ever more rampant as my life drew ever onwards. Interestingly I was in the early stages, rather inept as a reader but something about books drew me like moth to flame. As I gradually gained literary competence the world of words in which I seemed surrounded, expanded. Eventually I found a text that in a way broke my forth wall, at its completion an epiphany of sorts blasted through my very being, suddenly the world that did surround me exploded into an infinite universe of literature. My meager beginnings as a reader fell away into obscurity as the entirety of my soul was awed by the understanding that this was what true power meant.

From that point on I was irrevocably bound to the universe of endless words, I read everything, filled my heart and mind with the words of those both past and present. With each passing text more began to rise, with each subject whose surfaced I scratched I found only more knowledge that I had thirsted for but was yet to sup.

The more empowered the words I discovered became the more I noticed my own growing potency, from within me the words blossomed forth reconstructed in their own magnificent form. This kind of strength brought forth in me a new kind of knowledge, the realization that now I to could make the words dance in patterns so delicate and interwoven that they would in my mind take their place among the greats of my inner workings. This is not to say I am arrogant but the structure of my own thoughts took on a new more intricate design as the words I had read before and now continued to read created something greater within me, my beliefs, my reasons, my logic all came into being from the words thus taken in from the pages that I surrounded myself with.

Such was their beauty and strength, often I have found myself so drawn into the story that the words have constructed that I do not emerge till my bones ache and tears threaten to ruin the page. My beautiful books have all been stained with tears, fingerprints and crumpling grip. The more stained and worn the more adored the words within do seem, to take them in over and over again, never ceasing to be moved by their meaning and prose. And such became the greatest wonder in my world the power of words.

Writer's Block: Dynamite with a laser beam

What's your favorite line from a song, and why?

Fumbling towards ecstasy - "Fumbling towards ecstasy" Sarah Mclachlin


To me music is something akin to god, I can’t sing or play anything at all which in a way makes it all the more mysterious and astounding to know that the source of such amazing sound is borne from the human imagination

In a way listening to music of almost any kind is in some ways akin to flying, to soar on a crescendo and feel your own heartbeat through the sounds of music intoned can leave ones soul enraptured for what seems like an eternity.

I myself have only just begun to scratch the surface of the ever enigmatic world of music; it is after all my lack of instrumental skill that draws me to those that are considered to be the best of their kind. I wish to hear violins scream of love so doomed it ripped from the flesh my own beating heart, I want to see the piano’s keys dance to a sonnet so full of sweetness nightingales would weep if they heard, I want to hear a singer with a voice so poignant and powerful that as their lungs let forth the most amazing sounds I soar with them as they rise and fall through their instrumental endeavors.

Without sound in many ways I would feel as if I was cut adrift from the world, I would in my own way lose my ability to feel, my heart could still be open, but the capacity to feel the beauty of human creation would be irrevocably damaged. No, I cannot play, but for that reason music has become entwined within my very soul, the sense of an unknown force bursting into the world and tossing my mind into new imaginative heights and without it I fear I would soar no more.