Y'know I might become a good writer if I actually did something beyond the first draft. I don't know if it's laziness on my part, a feeling of unctuous superiority which deems everything I write to be gold when it's simply typing to borrow a turn of a phrase from Truman Capote. Yesterday's entry is a hallmark of such attitudes because I did reread my little essay, ese, and started finding things which could've been better written if I took some care rather than hammering my fingers upon the keyboard.
Could this be considered a style? An attempt to capture the zeitgeist of my thoughts, a snapshot of my feelings, presented raw and unpolished where the idea is integral not the narrative? I think back to those heady days where I was a sullen art student wandering a medium-sized university and taking art history because it's part of the syllabus where I learned about Henri Rousseau. Mr. Rousseau was dissuaded from pursuing a formal instruction of fine arts by his peers for fear that it would diminish his unparalleled, autodidactic talent which greatly contributed to his œuvre firmly establishing Henri within the pantheon of post-impressionists and father of the fauves.
Most times I wonder if I just have a mindset of "Just get it done!" from the way I was raised in New Jersey and various experiences in and out of employment during the intervening years. Believe it or not, gentle reader, I always endeavor to present engaging written material here at heptapod.org and my personal correspondences.
Funny thing is that I believe I really nail my technique when I'm contributing to the oneiromancy feature. What makes it so funny is the fact that I usually work from hastily written notes made up of declarative phrases and allusions to my own personal monologue which enhance the memories but would be rendered useless and vague to everyone else.
Every day I write something here, barring personal drama (which is typical of most self-described artists [can I get more parenthetical here?] {statements within declarations within asides}), for the perusal of the world-at-large I do wonder if someone who is a real writer, someone with a distinguished formal education or perhaps a talent-seeker will stumble upon these humble hand-coded html pages giving these Courier 16px words some consideration even if it simply earns them a humble repose upon the slushpile. It'd be nice to hear an opinion rather than a declaration of fondness as reason for continued visitation even if this work is found only worth of condemnation.
Understand that this is only an idea. As editor-in-chief of heptapod.org I'm quite aware that my audience is largely unresponsive because of how the site is designed and presented online and general apathy which infects readers who are busy with their own lives and favor the convenience of skimming this text rather than actively socializing with me on a regular basis.
Sometime in the near future, should I happen to have a dream, surely I will post my notes regarding a dream and request that you, gentle reader, attempt to write your own oneiromancy feature from those notes. Each will be presented at heptapod.org over the course of several days until I finally post my own rendition of the dream which will have been written ahead of time, hidden from Canada and kept in a hermetically-sealed mayonnaise jar left outside Funk & Wagnall's front porch since noon of that day until the contributions have been received from participants.
If you are interested, gentle reader, then kindly contact our helpful and talented interspecies staff so you may be contacted should this project arise in the near future. Everyone else will be shown images of the notes (which shall also be transcribed since my handwriting can be egregiously poor, gentle reader) and given the chance to submit the text by the end of the month.
I wish I had twenty four perfectly-formed fingers and toes.
Turns out that I was participating in the filming of a film featuring the characters of Alan Moore's Watchmen. The one character who kept showing up was Rorschach. The aforementioned character is a pastiche of DC Comic's The Question with a strong bent for objectivism and his homemade mask shows how he sees everything as being black and white. Story so far had Rorschach replaced by Laurie Juspeczyk so he could investigate something or rather. In the midst of these shenanigans
I was following the film's director, a stocky bald man who seemed to be closely related to molluscs because of his ever-present sheen of sweat, who was confounded as to how to stage a scene which takes place at a boxing match. His greatest annoyance was getting more than a hundred extras jammed into a room which was ill-designed to even fake being such a theater and have it seem convincing on the silver screen. I kept spouting out my suggestions about matte shots and digitally increasing the size of the audience with computers. All the while I was popping tiny after-dinner mints and calling them vicodin.
Over in a corner was a cop who was dead set on busting Rorschach and figured something was up since Rorschach was wearing a plastic bag with dalmation spots instead of the usual blood-stained trenchcoat. The cop was getting close to puzzling out the mystery while our heroes made their escape further delaying the film. Each escaped up a ladder to the roof of the building only to complete the getaway down a fire escape. As soon as Nite-Owl, Rorschach and Silk Specter II, a.k.a. Laurie Juspeczyk, reached the street they encountered Juggernaut. Yes I know I'm mixing and matching various properties from comic book companies. What are they going to do? Sue me for dreams? Juggs grabbed Rorschach by the collar and slammed him onto the asphalt claiming he had the right due to his enforcement of the Superhero Registration Act. While the objectivist protagonist lay wheezing in the street a Monte Carlo from the 1970's roared off a nearby rooftop, smashed onto the street and sped over his body. I could hear the grunts and snapping bones from across the street. The car was dark purple with green highlights and a license plate that said "JOKER".
