I write every day… but you already know that…… sometimes I catch myself thinking, why do I write every day?…… and each time the same answer, I have no idea….. usually followed by an attempt to dress it up in some pretentious gobbledy-speak…….. but in the end, I have no idea…….. am I doing it for you, for me, for someone else, for something else?…….. it’s a question often asked in writing groups….. maybe it’s a reflex, or like armpit hair…….. or something to do with my hands, and I suppose, brain…. it usually crowbars its way in somewhere messing it up with preconception and expectation, dyslexiating the free-flow…..
… look, I made up a word, which as you know dear pixel-pal I have a habit of doing….. maybe sometimes again out of pretension, to ‘be clever’…. sometimes they appears like clouds, and just like a cloud can morph into a new shape, and then another and another until you no longer remember where it started, and then it’s left to etymologists who, like watchmakers, tickle and tease through the tiniest of cogs to find the source of its Nile…….. like the letter ‘x‘, which I’m convinced isn’t a letter making it all the more fascinating, instead just a clump of other letter said quickly to sound like it is… like Pluto to astronomers, planet or not a planet?…. that is the question…… most say it with a vowel first, “eckss” sounding like a hiccuping snake…. or begin with a consonant, hence “kiss” without the ‘i‘ and voila, sound like a sneezing snake!….
… each solstice I tell myself I’ll do something special, different… and then I never do…… that’s clouds for you, slippery customers that only look like clouds far away but up close and personal just look like air…….
© robert greig 2017