i like doing my blog. though i seem to have dried up a bit lately and only managed dull and short entries, for me this is okay. i'm enjoying the process of writing. i like thinking about the words, the phrases, the patterns.
i thinking i've developed a certain taste and style of ebb.
i may not be the most erudite of chaps, i'd never even venture near the lyrical battlefield, i'll leave the literary martial-arts to the troubadour. but it seems i have discovered a little creative outlet in my otherwise (often) objective weekday life. i don't even mind if noone reads it. i'm doing it for the pleasure of me. if someone else fancies a read then bully for them, hopefully it'll provide them with the occasional giggle or thought-provoking-head-thought.
it's like a diary that i won't lose.
i'm extra specially looking forward to my trip next year when i plan to regularly write in a journal using one of those pen thingies and my hand. don't worry, i will promptly enter it all into 'the neon sun' on my return. i fear the combination of the movement of a charging steam-train and my years of neglected penmanship would result in illegible scrawl, save for my scrawl-friendly eye. i'll type it for you; mark my words.
but the heart will remain in the leather-bound hardback, alongside the inky heiroglyphics and badly pasted ticket stubs. it will be a nice thing. if i can find a leather-bound hardback. it might just be a whsmith jotter. meh.
there's a soul in writing. there are a hundred billion souls in the words within. i'm far from prophesing to be a master of them - i'm more of a jack of all trade/master of none kinda guy - but an enjoyer, i am. words are as good as music. combine the two and you have heart-wrenching beauty. sometimes. i disclude more than i can list, and yes, blazin' squad is on that list.
and most hip-hop. shizzle.
we edge slowly and with purpose toward the subject on my mind. i have come to realise in recent times just how irritated i am by the decline of language. particularly written. now, i haven't blogged a rant about anything in quite a while (generally because i'm quite content) but this has been getting my goat. getting my goat and poking it repeatedly with a stick while singing the american national anthem in a boyband stylee.
people (some) have lost the ability to speak properly. fuck this fucking fucker fuck yeah, fuck? etc. i'm not completely adverse to the odd fucking swear word, but there are other fucking adjectives, you fuckers.
bu' dis ain't ma greivance, man.
i emplore you to join me in a movement against text message and webspeak abreviations. shortening words to their consonent parts to fit more in a 160 character msg pisses me right off. okay, so sometimes there's a lot to be said, more than 160 nuggets will allow. if it's one time in twenty then... y'know... okay. but limited to mobile phone messages. when you're typing, you've got the entire alphabet in front of you, a button for each letter. is it really too much to ask for your fingers to spell out a whole word instead of creating indecipherable code?
now i'm not one for being patriotic. far from it. i think this country's easily done enough damage to earth and its history to counterract the good that pockets of do-gooders have managed. we are, though, a nation with a past reputation for our skillful and cultured use of the spoken and written word. shakespeare pretty much wins it every time in poet top trumps, to name-drop but one. did you know that the english language has more words in it than any other language that has ever existed? this is in a world where a language becomes extinct every two weeks.
yep. i done did research.
i know language does naturally evolve over time. i'm sure if anyone from billy shakespeare's time were to hear us now they would lament the loss of a country who constantly spoke in iambic pentameter. (he might also be sad about the fact that noone wears ruffs any more, but this blog is about wordplay, not elizabethan fashion). (maybe later). let's not let it evolve in such a way that we stop writing vowels. especially when there are chavs out there who can't manage to say consonents out loud.
just, y'know, like this language that we've got. it's a good one.
bad things that have squeezed my scrote recently: