There are so many better writers than me. I just finished reading a new entry in the journal that made me start my own chronicles. He writes. In a talented, stylistic, make-me-want-to-stop-writing way, he writes. I can't explain it.
That's why I do not write. You know, because I can't.
I can remember a time when I'd write to formulate a thought I couldn't properly vocalise. Now I don't think I express myself well in either way.
I think my writing is missing the realism it once had. I become so involved in the style that I lose the genuineness. No real strong subject.
I think that's what's lost in most art. This isn't just my problem. Everyone is so hung up with being creative they forget that the only way to be creative is to realize there is no creation involved, only manipulation of your own experiences. Sure, you need to be interesting, but the only real way to do that is to be interested. True art is a good mixture of passion and formula.
Comedians call it "dissecting the joke".
You see, there is a importance in the idea that says that in order to be funny, you have to know why you're funny.
Music theory. Sentence structure. Philosophy in math. Architectural drawings. There is structure in chaos; there has to be a balance. Contrary to popular belief, inventiveness is not the antonym of structure, it is the complement.
But I've become too stuctured. Too formulaic.
From here on, I need to stop concentrating as much on the organization of thought, and more on the thought itself.
End transmission.