! O !
Hwæt!
A fragment.
A citation: Hofstadter, Douglas. (1985). Metamagical themas: Questing for the essence of mind and pattern. This is the title of this story, which is also found several times in the story itself. New York, NY: BasicBooks.
Getting started is hard for me. A complete sentence! The first in this paragraph, not the second. Or third.
In this paragraph, I relate my frustrations with writer's block in the topic sentence. This run-on sentence explains, with mixed metaphors, my ham-fisted use of a self-referential crutch to try to jump-start my productive expression of ideas, which, in this clause, I explain has escaped me for a while now. Imagine a ham-fisted person on crutches trying to jump-start anything!
It might be working. But now I am constricted by this stupid convention of self-reference, which I found in a collection of columns (see citation above) early in 1987.
In early 1987, I found that I wanted to re-invent myself, not for the last time, I relate here. (What a lame attempt to maintain self-referential consistency! At least I used complete sentences in this paragraph. Almost.)
In this sentence, I express my gratitude for the ease of Blogger's ® formatting tools.
"So, what you are saying is, by navel-gazing at language you can find a way to express yourself? Isn't that gimmicky and incredibly limiting?" he asked petulantly.
"Yes, but it gives me the opportunity to use big words. I meant to say sesquipedalian
words." he mellifluously retorted.
"Who is he talking to?" someone asked.
In this paragraph, I attempt bring this ... blog? ... essay? ... rant? ... story? ... whatever... to a close. Seems like an achievable goal. Fragment.
Nope, didn't work. Hey, did you notice that this thing is structured exactly like Homer's Odyssey or Beowulf? I mean, except for character, story, narrative, mythos, rhyme, conflict and pacing. Otherwise, exactly follows the structure. Beginning, middle, end. Structure. Fragments.
In this paragraph, I relate my frustrations with writer's block in the topic sentence. This run-on sentence explains, with mixed metaphors, my ham-fisted use of a self-referential crutch to try to jump-start my productive expression of ideas, which, in this clause, I explain has escaped me for a while now. Imagine a ham-fisted person on crutches trying to jump-start anything!
It might be working. But now I am constricted by this stupid convention of self-reference, which I found in a collection of columns (see citation above) early in 1987.
In early 1987, I found that I wanted to re-invent myself, not for the last time, I relate here. (What a lame attempt to maintain self-referential consistency! At least I used complete sentences in this paragraph. Almost.)
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.
Ralph Waldo EmmersonWait. Fragments. Wait... Flow breaking. Get a grip. Maybe use dialog to regain narrative consistency.
"So, what you are saying is, by navel-gazing at language you can find a way to express yourself? Isn't that gimmicky and incredibly limiting?" he asked petulantly.
"Yes, but it gives me the opportunity to use big words. I meant to say sesquipedalian
words." he mellifluously retorted.
"Who is he talking to?" someone asked.
SESQUIPEDALIAN: the quality of being likely to use words like sequipedalian: <sesquipedalian commentator>El Dorado. Valiant. Had a Valiant once. Cost me a buck. Held together with rust. Back to fragments. Get a grip. Hey, there's a sentence. And another. Damn. So close.
In this paragraph, I attempt bring this ... blog? ... essay? ... rant? ... story? ... whatever... to a close. Seems like an achievable goal. Fragment.
Nope, didn't work. Hey, did you notice that this thing is structured exactly like Homer's Odyssey or Beowulf? I mean, except for character, story, narrative, mythos, rhyme, conflict and pacing. Otherwise, exactly follows the structure. Beginning, middle, end. Structure. Fragments.
When I write or draw with a pen, pencil or stylus, I find after a few minutes that, I am clutching the implement with so fierce a grasp that you'd think I was writing with a Pygmy Rattlesnake (Sistrurus miliarius), grasping it just behind the jaw hinge (as I was taught to in the Boy Scouts™), instead of using a
BIC™ Atlantis™ Retractable Ball Pen. Ooh! What a give-away. Fragments.
Relax. Like fragments. Pens. Words. !
Relax. Like fragments. Pens. Words. !
1 comment:
Yay! Even though most of the words were two big for me to understand. You broke your writer's logjam! Good job. P.S. you are sort of a different kind of guy.
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