I have yet to actually create a blog design. its been a while, and frankly I don't remember a damn thing about it.
In the backround, HHGG is playing. So rare that I can enjoy a book to movie production. But this one I'll treasure always. And not just because of Mos Def. *Purrrrr* It's not exactly true to book...but I dig it.
Does it take an expansive life and lifestyle to inspire great stories? Is it all just a battle between natural talent and inclusive experiences? If there is a story in everyone, does that mean those unable to find one are not within the scope of human majority?
if all i can think to write is only what i myself would like to read, am i dooming myself to the limits of my own unknowing mind?
Should i rather, then, to escape this prison of self, write what Id never dare pick up?
Write something so horrible pathtic as to be able to move past what blocks me?
Or is what blocks me bigger than circumstance?
How can one write what one cannot share?
As you may have noticed, i don't do spell checking. I could, mind you. But what a boring task. The more i reread the less pleased i am. And so i leave it to the timeless anonynimity of the internet.
