Inside My Head

the literary rantings of Angie Frissore

Write what you know.

I was in love once, so I tried to write a love song.  I couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t put down on paper any combination of words that appropriately expressed my interpretation of it (well, one that didn’t sound as superficial and bubble-gum as most of your run-of-the-mill stereotypes).

I’ve been heartbroken several times.  I’ve been lonely, used, misunderstood, betrayed and abandoned just as much as most people (if not more, depending on how laced with self-pity I happen to be).  It was always so much easier to craft a verbal image of the scars left on my psyche and properly express myself down to each little tiny detail of every one of life’s disappointments.

I sat on the couch, wondering as I watched a Simon Pegg sitcom I was chastising myself for having overlooked for so long, how it could be so hard to write about the one thing that you want to share with the world more than anything.  The darkness, though…those moments you want to keep for yourself, afraid to open up to anyone…those are the moments of divine eloquence.

Perhaps it was because suffering makes us all human.  It puts each of us on the same level – everyone feels pain.  Perhaps love was an exclusive membership whose experience simply cannot be described to the laypeople.

A haggard-looking woman with a Cockney accent was attempting to seduce an uninspired artist on the television.  The camera zoomed in to a close up of her, as she breathlessly whispered into the artist’s ear.

“Contentment is the enemy of invention.”

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September 9, 2008 - Posted by | No Messages - Excerpts from the Draft | , ,

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