Tonight I want to write. I do not know why, but I want to.
In general, I like to write ... only that I can never devote. Write
I like much more than talk. Eh, I know, bad thing to say ... But let's start from the fact that I do not like my voice, I hate her! Formless, nasal, out of place, no stamp ... Ugly, just ugly!
So, when I can, I avoid talking ... and write. SMS, e-mail, Instant Messaging ... a bit 'all forms of written communication, in other words! I had my way, my vocal cords were atrophied by now, be thrown out. Indeed, perhaps it would be well broken! Yes, because when I feel like singing, screaming, I make them vibrate ... But perhaps it is only an illusion, because what I want I can give breath to my lungs, but from my mouth comes something that few (less) able to hear.
were saying ... Ah yes, tonight I want to write ... I like it ... Oh yes, because I can delete, read, reread, correct ... I find the right words, or at least stop looking for them. Then maybe come out the same ugly ... But when I write, I am the master, I am told that the times, and I can not be overcome. Yes, because this happens to me with others ... they speak, speak, and I can never put a word, a phrase of mine, again without being interrupted ... ("I can nun put 'na broom, "you would say in my part!). The others are good at talking, I must admit. But why stop? Perhaps it's only me to stop me, not the other way will be that I am weak ... will then, in the end, I have so many interesting things to say.
As I'm writing now ... typing ... but maybe I'm not saying anything significant, nothing interesting, nothing that is more interesting than silence.
.. I wonder what you understand from what I'm writing. Yeah, but where is it written that someone reads what I say? And most importantly try to find a way ... Come on, that's impossible!
And why I'm writing, So what? We go well: nemmeno io ascolto (leggo) quello che dico (scrivo)!! L'ho detto all'inizio: mi piace scrivere!! Punto. Basta. Discorso chiuso...
A me piacerebbe fare lo scrittore! Qualche volta ci ho pure provato. Ho scritto qualche racconto, breve. Ma purtroppo sono incostante, non ce la faccio a stare lì e mettere su una trama sensata, a "caratterizzare" i personaggi... così quello che ne è venuto fuori, a mio avviso, sono soltanto un paio di racconti banali, scritti con una certa passione ed uno stile (perché no!) interessante..., ma che ad un certo punto crollano, hanno una rapida decadenza perché mi ero scocciato di scrivere, di inventare, e volevo chiudere la storia.
Come il blog, che è stato fertile until at some point ... and then disappeared, liquefied ... Of course, commitments, work, the ups and downs, etc.. etc. but they are just an excuse, because when one wants to do one thing, the door ahead, in spite of everything ... And that I lack! I am full of good intentions, projects, "will," "I will," "I" ... but then hardly live up to terms that I take with myself!
Here: I prevaricated, I spoke to empty, I took it away ... and now I have a front page full of pretty words, lines, but perhaps lacking in content ... I wonder if someone is able to read something, I wonder if anyone can infer anything from what I wrote. Maybe yes, maybe the psychologists say, " Here, here, read her discomfort ... his injuries ... his state of mind ... It 's why I went to the office full of explosives and was blown up, making a killing ... . Quiet! I do not know where to get explosive ... : D and I'm pretty ignorant by not being able to manufacture on its own ... ;)
This is me. Or maybe that's what I want to be. Or maybe, better yet, what I look like ... Hard to say. The fact is that to really know me, you look deeply, read behind the lines, dig under the waste ... but it is doubtful that it's worth it! After all they have done a few ... and there will be pure un motivo, no?
Truly,
Giuseppe
In general, I like to write ... only that I can never devote. Write
I like much more than talk. Eh, I know, bad thing to say ... But let's start from the fact that I do not like my voice, I hate her! Formless, nasal, out of place, no stamp ... Ugly, just ugly!
So, when I can, I avoid talking ... and write. SMS, e-mail, Instant Messaging ... a bit 'all forms of written communication, in other words! I had my way, my vocal cords were atrophied by now, be thrown out. Indeed, perhaps it would be well broken! Yes, because when I feel like singing, screaming, I make them vibrate ... But perhaps it is only an illusion, because what I want I can give breath to my lungs, but from my mouth comes something that few (less) able to hear.
were saying ... Ah yes, tonight I want to write ... I like it ... Oh yes, because I can delete, read, reread, correct ... I find the right words, or at least stop looking for them. Then maybe come out the same ugly ... But when I write, I am the master, I am told that the times, and I can not be overcome. Yes, because this happens to me with others ... they speak, speak, and I can never put a word, a phrase of mine, again without being interrupted ... ("I can nun put 'na broom, "you would say in my part!). The others are good at talking, I must admit. But why stop? Perhaps it's only me to stop me, not the other way will be that I am weak ... will then, in the end, I have so many interesting things to say.
As I'm writing now ... typing ... but maybe I'm not saying anything significant, nothing interesting, nothing that is more interesting than silence.
.. I wonder what you understand from what I'm writing. Yeah, but where is it written that someone reads what I say? And most importantly try to find a way ... Come on, that's impossible!
And why I'm writing, So what? We go well: nemmeno io ascolto (leggo) quello che dico (scrivo)!! L'ho detto all'inizio: mi piace scrivere!! Punto. Basta. Discorso chiuso...
A me piacerebbe fare lo scrittore! Qualche volta ci ho pure provato. Ho scritto qualche racconto, breve. Ma purtroppo sono incostante, non ce la faccio a stare lì e mettere su una trama sensata, a "caratterizzare" i personaggi... così quello che ne è venuto fuori, a mio avviso, sono soltanto un paio di racconti banali, scritti con una certa passione ed uno stile (perché no!) interessante..., ma che ad un certo punto crollano, hanno una rapida decadenza perché mi ero scocciato di scrivere, di inventare, e volevo chiudere la storia.
Come il blog, che è stato fertile until at some point ... and then disappeared, liquefied ... Of course, commitments, work, the ups and downs, etc.. etc. but they are just an excuse, because when one wants to do one thing, the door ahead, in spite of everything ... And that I lack! I am full of good intentions, projects, "will," "I will," "I" ... but then hardly live up to terms that I take with myself!
Here: I prevaricated, I spoke to empty, I took it away ... and now I have a front page full of pretty words, lines, but perhaps lacking in content ... I wonder if someone is able to read something, I wonder if anyone can infer anything from what I wrote. Maybe yes, maybe the psychologists say, " Here, here, read her discomfort ... his injuries ... his state of mind ... It 's why I went to the office full of explosives and was blown up, making a killing ... . Quiet! I do not know where to get explosive ... : D and I'm pretty ignorant by not being able to manufacture on its own ... ;)
This is me. Or maybe that's what I want to be. Or maybe, better yet, what I look like ... Hard to say. The fact is that to really know me, you look deeply, read behind the lines, dig under the waste ... but it is doubtful that it's worth it! After all they have done a few ... and there will be pure un motivo, no?
Truly,
Giuseppe
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