I suddenly remembered that I did this typography-ish experiment with one of my posts from my old Myspace blog. At the time it was the best bit of prose I’ve ever done; it may still be the best, or it may actually be a poem. Anyhoo, it made Eeks invite me to that nerdylittywonder(?)land that is the Beeks (Ben + Eeks) blog. Of course I declined that invitation – this was a one-off spark of inspiration that, if I remember correctly, seemed to come from reading The Great Gatsby (hence the use of ‘gorgeous’).

But I miss feeling so intensely sad that I could write this kind of shit. Nowadays I’m just numb or pissed. I guess that there’s a certain intensity of sadness that results in creative literary fervour. I can’t get to that stage now that I’m subsisting on faded memories 90% of the time. I’m totally getting why Yeats insisted on getting rejected by Maud Gonne again and again… and so there goes Berny off the deep end, talking in 3rd person and all.



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