Precocious. Little. Clover. Devil

Sunday, January 08, 2006
Say what?


I spent a good hour delibrating on what to write. Usually, that would signal the setting in of a very well deocumented phenomena affectionately known of "writer's block".

However, I still forced my half-reluctant brain to produce at least a coherent work of writing. It's atrocious, the length of my recent entries, short, and short. I ask myself if it's worth the effort to press the publish button every time that happens.

It is quite alarming for one such as myself to witness an apparent deterioration of my language. It took me a good 15 minutes just to find the correct spelling of the word deterioriate. That is just plain unacceptable.

It is not merely an isolated incident, on the contrary, it has been increasingly common. To what extent has my linguistic abilities been impaired? I cannot fathom the damage, but judging from the state of affairs, I would say it could not get any worse.

It has also reared its unsightly head in my speech. Imagine speaking, and detesting the words that come out? The pronounciation, the vocalization, and the formation of sentences, it is all so repusively vile. That is what I feel about it on a good day. You would not want to contemplate the digust that is felt on a rotten day.

Practice, that is what I need. Write in proper sentences, start writing esay, just as long as it addresses the problem. Speak in proper english, think in full sentences, maybe that is what's missing.


Gavin pondered @ 19:52


Under the layers of dust