This must be how an addict feels: Anxious, edgy, the world just off-kilter enough to make him feel like an outsider, and then, when he finally gets the fix, ahhhhh.
Anxiety? What anxiety? Dude, it's all bliss and haze in here.
No, I'm not on hallucinogens, not drunk, not smoking something. I edited a paragraph.
Yep, you read me right. Edited. A paragraph.
I deleted a phrase. Ooh, that's good stuff. I rearranged a sentence. Getting better. I tossed out a word, inserted a dependent clause, and replaced a weak image with a strong visual. Wow. Psychedelic, man.
All the collected tension of a busy afternoon and evening just drifted away like curls of smoke.
Hello. My name is Keanan Brand. I'm a verbaholic.
4 comments:
Keanan, thanks for getting us started. My name is Alex Field, and I too, am a verbaholic, it's been a couple hours since my last writing session... Love this post...
Alex - (laughing) Welcome, welcome! Coffee and donuts in the back, and a veggie tray for the health-conscious addict, and name tags by the sign-in sheet.
Can we pick name tags? I'll just choose a new name, and identity!;)
Your addiction has parallels in art: I get so lost in painting that I'm totally deaf and blind to the outside world, and have been known to comment aloud on my work. Oops.
Sure! Hey, we go real-name or anonymous in here, so pick a name, any name!
I do the out-loud comments, too. When I have guests in the house, but I'm in my own little zone (which happens often), I catch myself saying lines of dialogue or editing myself -- "No, he'd never do that!" or "She'd just look at him and walk away" -- stuff that sounds totally random and crazy to anyone not living in my brain.
Most of the people who visit me, though, are accustomed to the outbursts, or the bolting off to scribble or type an idea before it leaves, but I still try to keep that stuff to a minimum. When it comes to impressions on other people, eccentricity is preferable, perhaps, than full-on insanity!
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