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Being a wordsmith is not only an
art, a talent and a technical skill, it also comes with a following or a retinue that earnestly waits. When
you pen something down, everyone in his right sense is caught by the insane
creativity and imagination and might even wonder how you did it.
Writing is a technique that spans
ages. It involves intrigue, imagination, discourse and conviction. Just to
mention but a few. With time it has evolved and will continue undergoing mutation.
That
I have failed in my ambitions to be a wordsmith is not a contestable half truth
or falsification. I only read more at the expense of writing quality mind
boggling and invigorating art pieces that probably should edutaint. It is like
am deviating from the norm that I had created when I challenged myself to be a
wordsmith which tautologically has been kind of a personal missive. When down,
I open and savour the contents like it was belonging to another being.
It's
like being a journo gives one the best prelude into being an effective and
congenial scribe. Especially print journos who are not afraid to play around
with words and manipulate our thought process so that we have this illusion of
their brilliantly nurtured inteligencia as they be paper chasing.
Some
of the most intelligent people are known to have been great writers and readers
and alas, thinkers. The likes of Albert Einstein, Shakespeare and Legion of
other literary folks whose works we revere and apply to our day to day lives.
As for Einstein his goose could have been cooked had he not made it to the Americas
As
I am scripting this piece of gibbery, I am lethargic and having obtunded
reflexes because I am not sately inspired to equivocally do it right. Am still
reeling from the aversión of mediocrity earlier on displayed by the former
quandary that befell yours truly in a panel of uncreative experts who I fell
like challenging but owing to my premiere, I thought better naught. Wish I
could have done better or come out more brisk. Like having that sonorous
baritone that gives me an edge to out manoeuvre peers at the blink of an eye
leaving them wide agape. Or that height that transcends the rest to scuttle
those vertically challenged into submission and petrifaction amid laxity in
opening the mouth to vex about my posture. Height wise I think I am tad challenged.
I yearn to be taller though.
Sometimes
I usually want to be that beggar who rides on an unbridled horseback like a
trained jockey full of illusory societal aspirations. Horses were for the
prototypical bourgeois who used them as a transit contrivance in medieval
times. Few laymen had the auspicious audacity to have one unless they were
cascading the societal vertical ladder to supremacy. Their economic supresión
having been a set back in their aspirations left most to be admirers of the
draught beast mostly seen during occasional visits to jockey clubs to watch as
the connoisseurs displayed their expertise amid cheers and ululations from the
electrified crowd.
As
a pragmatic individual, I always wish that writing was my Joie de vivre.
Writing in 3D and capturing imagery like reading a Sydney Sheldon novel or
listening to a romantic ballad that palpitaciones the intrinsic muscles of the
heart to lam with uncondensating rapidity synonymous to how Hezekiah felt upon
addition of fifteen more earthly years on the verge of his extinction from the
vicissitudes of planet earth.
I
am an average writer. I have the mettle even though the going is pique for
reasons this blog can't explain. Yenning I am to burst from the cocoons of
bondage and entrapment so as to explore the greater ability of immortality in
the art of scripting.
Sometimes
I make sense; otherwise I am a nonsensical writer. Many think I subterfuge yet I
am always as realistic as required of me. Or is it that I have adopted a witty
charm of dismantling the listeners of my plebeian anecdotes that most have
ultimately thought of as foolish owing to my usual good first impression since
am bespectacled and wear this big plastic rimmed glasses that give me the flair
of a very intelligent scholar.
Many
a times some people have told me about my boorish nature and acting puerile. I
was once an actor, sometimes am forced to be callous. Damn, even primary school
kids intimated the same because I know how to offend especially the emotional
right side of their brain when provoked. I can't beat about the bush. Most of
those who tell me so are mostly obtuse and inanely thick and as such, I usually
try to make them feel at home because it is sanctimonious to be a pious snob
when dealing with a person whom you view as a nincompoop.
As
I work towards circumventing the barriers of making a wordsmith. My motive is
to deride my critics and naysayers into a delectable submission. I want to
dismantle their genial idiosyncratic avalanche of not exercising
self-effacement at my own bauble alter of penmanship. To subdue their comfort
at my behest into thinking their posse are malingering when in reality they are
switching ground because they have no more cognate juxtaposition with their
royalty.
I
might suffer from disdain and being disheveled. But my zeal for a rendezvous is
unmatched. That which is wholly defined by a petulant opprobrium and tenets of
oblique harangue which is essentially undoubted since its premised by
ostentatious misogamy of riley. Frivolously propagated by an evolving
decapitation of our morality and the ethical premia we have failed to protect
resulting in abrogation of our fragile traditions inherent from our yore folks.
Yet
I despise the horrendous itinerary of being held hostage by a barrage of
lexical argot intended to embody simple and tacit apprehensive comprehension in
my endeavour of construal of my mundane nomenclature of being a deprived
quintessentially skillful writer with unmatched renaissance into a new dawn.
Thankfully,
the most beautiful thinks in the world are not seen but felt by the heart. I
may be a bull in China
I
want to be that deus en machina who convolutes and gives headaches to the
huffish scribes from their yolks of relishing the status quo devoid of being
reprimanded. I am not casting aspersions. This is a deuce. Playing it safe and
seldom shifting alliance with this innocuous artistry that borders on probity
of candour.
SITUONANE.
[Photo Source: Openphoto]
