For those unfamiliar with the concept, please read: New Game Plus
I think it's time to let this old blog die. Not delete it. No, not that. There is far too much here that I would rather linger on the Internet and be read, dissected, and maybe even --- in some strange, warped sense --- appreciated. That isn't saying I'm done writing, however.
No. I love to write. I write for the sake of the act of writing, rather than any other financial, intellectual, or supposedly spiritual benefit of it. Writing is my arena, my domain. Abandoning it is unthinkable; I'd sooner stop breathing than stop writing, thinking about what to write, and looking at ways to write what my mind conjures.
I've always felt that writing isn't an art or a skill; writing is a game. In fact, it is The Game. I have, in many ways, been playing it for a long time now. Still, some inner contemplation has given me the chance to realize that the current set of rules by which I play no longer meet my needs. In a sense, I've hit the proverbial "upper limit" of improvement that my current rules allow. Thus, it is time to change the rules.
I will, of course, need time to restructure those rules. I find it kind of sad, really. I've come to rather enjoy this blog and the need to maintain the slavering, mindless hunger of it. Still, things must change and life must go on. Over-dramatic as it may sound, it is near the end of an era for me.
So the wheel of ages turns. We'll see where it leads this time around soon, won't we?
And though I had slain a thousand foes less one,
The thousandth knife found my liver;
The thousandth enemy said to me,
'Now you shall die,
Now none shall know.'
And the fool, looking down, believed this,
Not seeing, above his shoulders, the naked stars,
Each one remembering.
--John M. Ford, The Final Reflection
The thousandth knife found my liver;
The thousandth enemy said to me,
'Now you shall die,
Now none shall know.'
And the fool, looking down, believed this,
Not seeing, above his shoulders, the naked stars,
Each one remembering.
--John M. Ford, The Final Reflection
The Asylum Director
- VIIIofSwords
- "The only thing I was fit for was to be a writer, and this rested solely on my suspicion that I would never be fit for real work, and that writing didn't require any." - Russel Baker
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
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