Sunday, oh Sunday….

There was nothing more than that to that sentence, so instead I’ll continue on in some usual fashion, although I’m not sure as to what is fashionable these days. I guess that’s part of the cons of living under a rock for most of my time, but then again I like my rock and don’t care about what is and isn’t a fashionable way to start a sentence, paragraph, story, review, critique, etc. etc.

I imagine that if I did care, I’d probably be a much better writer but a significantly less inventive write.

Note: I am not actually claiming that I am inventive by any measure as I’m pretty sure that I’m mediocre at best as I usually have absolutely no idea as to what I’m doing and fly blindly into the storm of writing that I like to pretend I’m trying to get through.

In a way, I’m glad that I’m pretty crap because I can revel in my own ineptitude far more than if I knew what I was doing at any given moment when it came to putting words down.

At the same time, I sort of wish I knew what I was doing more often than not. It’s only a minor thing that is gradually going away as I work out what it is that I am indeed doing when it comes to writing (assuming I am actually and not currently talking out of my ass), but it would probably help get more things across with a lot less poorly-written drivel to wade through to find something that would be worth reading.

However, I don’t think I could properly sit down and learn how to write in whatever manner is correct. There’s nothing wrong with the discipline and in many ways it’s quite respectable. I think that I work better with having a lack of knowledge as I think less about what I need to follow and what I need to avoid. For me, thinking about those things leaves me with something representing a duality alongside my desire to write however I want and write about whatever I want to write about. I’d probably stop writing as much, if at all.

It would probably be much better for a lot of people, but for myself I wouldn’t enjoy it as much.

This could, of course, be some sort of excuse that I’m using to refuse gaining more knowledge about how I’m writing. I do genuinely believe that I’m better off not knowing what I’m doing as I do have a tendency to find myself at odds with things creative when it comes to the theory against the practical because I have a tendency to think too much (I think).

Oh well. These are all things that I can ponder at some other time as right now I want to write about something and need to get around to doing that.

But what to write about?

Damn. I’ve just run out of words.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:48:96

Could have been faster, but otherwise I’m happy with the speed.
I should probably write less about writing, but either way it’s writing, so I guess that’s a good thing.

Written at home.