(taken from my livejournal)
fuck, yeah, lance.
that man is a whole new level of writing unto himself. the visceral feeling his words evoke in me... that's the reason i love writing. he touches me. no random words on a page can do that, you know. amazing.
also, there's mr. zeldman, benbrown, and john... all writings on the day the world's metalities were faced with it's reality. i bet even the organizations behind tuesday's actions sunk in a numbing pool of shock for several moments before the reality of the situation buoyed them. then i'm sure there was cheering and complimentary pizza.
some of these thoughts (of the authors above) i agree with. others, i am not so sure.
but i'll tell you what: when i was done reading them, i was sucked into the author's mindset. sometimes, it takes me a while to re-calibrate mine, based on what i've read. good writing is persuasive by it's very nature. john isn't stating that everyone needs to disreguard the option of war, for instance. it's his personal hope. and when i read it, even though i don't really agree with some of the fine tuning, i feel his pain, and his dilemna on the whole.
i wish for peace to the exclusion of all else when i stare at those words.
i love writers.
now, kiddies... don't fear for me, but i am actually going to venture away from this floral cushion that has been cradling my ass almost exclusively for the past few days. the damn thing has a unique imprint of two cheeks... it's screaming lethargy.
make haste, make-up, make an appearance, make an excuse (to go home). just thought i would sum up my evening there. :)
3:28 p.m. - 2001-09-23
Recent entries:
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Mary - 2005-02-08
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