Wednesday 27 June 2012

2)

 All my words come out bold, underlined, italicised.  Not quite the urgency of capitals, which I have never much liked.  Just a bit too sharp, a bit too harsh.  I feel that I'm being unkind.  So I flatten.

On a page, my words now would have deflates Os and As.  The tall letters shortened, the Is undotted.  All the spikes rubbed clean then grubby by repeated attempts to erase.

You know you can use white bread as a rubber, if you squash it up?

I dunno why I write like this lately.  Metaphor.  Cliche.  Simile.  Like a GCSE student prepped to impress the examiner with her range of techniques.  There, a simile again.  It annoys me.  Like the alternatively spiky and deflated words I speak, it messes up my meanings.  It hides my real thoughts behind forced, pretentious literariness.

Because I don't see another way to get them out.

Except...











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