Monday, October 20, 2008

I Never Write When I'm Happy

Blogs aside... anyway, I wrote this really quickly during class O.o so I'll edit it later. Forgive it's crappiness!

In times of joy, I never seem able to write. Perhaps, in these instances, I merely fail to be moved, touched, grabbed, swayed, or reached. When I become happy, I have no physical body. Except, maybe, for the sunlight. That’s what I feel like. Warm, engulfing, bright. Sometimes, I feel so bright that I think people should be shading their eyes when they look at me. I’m enough to render a man blind.

I am nothing but the sweet mingled scent of women’s perfumes as they huddle together in the subway car. Some people think I’m too strong, powerful enough to send them coughing and sneezing, to make their temples ache and their eyes itch. Not everyone can handle me, and some hate the mixture that I am. At times, I feel like the success of the alchemists. From some silly combination of ingredients, elements, experiences, everything, I am reborn, and I am gold.

A memory of home. A wonderful memory of home. The glory of your youth, I am your lost innocence. I remember all those little secrets you’ve long forgotten but never told. I’m that inside joke that used to send you howling. The password to your fort, the one you always seemed to forget. No one cared. I forgive you.

When I feel this way, my pen dissipates along with me. How can I write when I feel this way? When I am the pen and the ink and the paper and the words and the greatest piece of literature ever contrived, hailed as the new Shakespearean masterpiece, the Austen of the modern age, Hemingway, had he lived to be an old, old man. I feel the success, the glory, and we are one. So, I never write when I am happy.

And that, my darlings, is why you will have to settle for my moaning, weeping, silly words. If I am happy, let us dance together, laugh, and sing. Take hands and skip off through the fields like little girls hundreds of years ago. But, if you want documentation, take a photo, if you want, but I won’t write a word.


And here's Courtney's postcard again, 'cause it makes me happy:

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

You know what's so incredible? When you're a famous writer, I'll be able to say, "We used to work together."

Amanda Martin Sandino said...

>.< noh. I didn't even much like that writing. That's why it's all UNEDITED, UNSCRIPTED. They only use those words when they know it won't sell otherwise.