Monday, May 30, 2005
Tired and Naked
I don't write anymore.
I can't find new meaning to my words. I feel that there's nothing more to say. My verses then are still my verses now. I simply change a word or two to make them look new.
Believe me, I try once in a while. But my hands are weak and my mind fails me.
I'm not a frustrated writer. I'm just frustrated. I don't really consider myself a writer because there's nothing impressive about my work. Pop culture says that a writer should get readers who appreciate his/her work. It doesn't matter if you're highly influenced by the goddess of modern English, Melanie Marquez; or you're a plagarizing dimwit like this poor biatch, Drunken Raped Angel. That's the rule: you should have readers. No matter how thick your writing is or where you got it—as long as you have readers, you're doing just fine.
But all I have is a crazy-assed blog with nothing on it except my butt-naked self.
(Scan my archive if you want to see me naked. No shit. I've been naked here. Really. I'm not kidding. Potah nito, ayaw maniwala.)
Yes. I do feel that a lot. I have stripped myself naked but nobody wanted to stare. True. I had fun "stripping," but it would surely be a lot better if people actually read my work and didn't just laugh at my fine juicy arse.
However, there's something about the book below that makes me feel good about this blog entry. Just go knock your head a bit if you can't see the relationship.
But it doesn't do much. I'm still tired and I don't write anymore.
St. Scho Manila, 2:00 pm
(05/30/05)
*****
This book will be launched in mid-June.
