I watch you daily because your history leaves a cache trail of fine print. I notice the whites of your eyes gleam at a variety of anonymous sites.
Registered in the clouds are a collection of stories, and photography, too many to count since the lovers of art walk a nostalgic part.
Each artist’s works with with a unique emotional frequency, and I collect them all in html or encrypted form.
I know the process, I see the flapdoodle behind the posts. It starts with a moment of utter and complete blankness until an idea quivers through their bones.
You may not believe in magic until you observe an artist in his element, because when the moment is right, the magic unfurls.
they’ll pick sentences apart, dissecting words, forcing themselves deeper in their abstract multidimensional minds.
The paraprosdokian and prosaic aren’t mere coincidence. They are a round way ticket to the artist’s estranged psyche
You will be pleased by some, while others will spur detest, either ways I am the doorkeeper to that experience.
So when you’re ready for your magic to happen, ready to be dissected, picked apart by the internet’s brutal eye, you may use daily prompts for a nudge of inspiration or freestyle everything.
10 words or 10,000 words, however the choice is yours but that daring moment comes with the most critical one. Press the brown button at the top-right corner if you dare, or allow your time and energy to remain hidden from their scrutinising eyes. Whether temporary or forever. This choice is yours alone.
With the minutes you have left, you decide to visit the grand patrons, their walls are adorned with humble non show- offish recognitions from sunflower to McAlester awards. Albeit, hidden within are a bounty of inspiration.
But then you decide you’re not quite ready to unveil yourself. No wonder many embrace the familiar comfort of apocrypha.
Eventually you’ll grow into your own blogging skin, but until then, do you read me? or do you worship the likes and praise the shares at the button of my page?