Sometimes I just sit here at this God-forsaken machine and revel in my own arrogance. I keep telling myself that it’s some lunatic form of misunderstood art, that a method will finally emerge from behind the madness; a defining mood or premise or phrase will force its way to the forefront where, once recognized, its simple elegance will dance off the page into the adoring light of all who might happen to behold it. Then, once revealed, it will magically burst into tiny neutrinos containing neither charge nor mass, capable of retaining all their wisdom and all their power while branching out into exciting realms of yet-unrealized magnificence such as the world has never seen; proliferating and mutating everything they contact until The Golden Gospel of Bob overpowers all foes, convinces all naysayers and delights all curmudgeons, creating evangelists out of mayhem. Amen.
But there is no emergence and there is no dancing, and any bursts detected will emanate from the bubbles I’ve produced to satisfy my own ego. Yet, here I sit… and clack… and wonder when it will show up. After all, I’m evangelical by nature, am I not?
9 comments:
Dude...It does seem there should be something more, some other result than just the comments to come out of your daily issuance of brilliance.
Not to say that receiving the comments is not nice, I mean you have loyal and interested readers here and you are well respected and liked by them, so notice to the extent that you can notice you are already respected and admired…
Still a writer with your talents must from time to time look out the window and wonder - to what end, and is this the end...
So here is my wish for you Bob, that today, tomorrow or some time next week you emerge from your den of genius and find that a party has been going on – that it has been going on all of your life, and that in that crowd of revelers are some genuine true believers in you, and your talents…and to them you have been a beacon of wit and intelligence for years…
Peace
Poetman
to poetman's wishes I add: may the swirling cloud of neutrino whoosh and swish the worry particles away whoosh! begone! Go reconnaissance and recombine and reconvence some place else.
There.
Now: may the Cur of the Curmudgeon keep all worries at bay. Cur! Stay. Guard.
Good dog.
A very common feeling, I suspect, though rarely so well put. My theory, for what it's worth is that a handful of people read your work and it inevitabley has some effect on them and they inevitabley have some effect on the handful people with whom thay have contact and so forth. So rather than a sudden blast of fission there is a constant outward flow, ripples in a pond. Beside which, you are funny and that is not a small thing, that is a great gift, to make one person smile or laugh, a great gift,
Poetman-- You're very kind. Thank you so much. Honestly, it was my intention to point out that my writing, lately, has no "legs". Thoughts that I used to take and run with effortlessly, nowadays tend to bog down and fail to bring about others to follow. Seriously, though, I'd love to come to the party. Thanks again...
Thanks to you as well, Lee. Anyone who'd loan me her best Cur to look after me is okay in my book.
Gingatao-- I like your trickle-down theory. I hope people get the occasional grin from my stuff. Thanks for the lift.
Thank you all!
yes you are brother bob
Well, I couldn't have said it any better than it's already been said. You bring a smile to my face quite often and every now and then you cause me to pause and think. No small task! You are loved and admired by all who are lucky enough to know you.
Just keep writing. "It" will return!
:D
THE GOLDEN GOSPEL!
you know i am forever on a quest for the meaning of life.. i have tried both attacking it,, and being kind,,, and the bitch ain't talkin'....
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