Rantglass - because that's how things are.

Leave it all up in the air.

Outside, the garden is pitch black – strangely devoid of the soft rustling of leaves – lights from passing cars draw brief lines along windows – the air stagnant and warm, the atmosphere hardly excitable.

Inside, fingers wandering silently over the keyboard – feeling the slightly rounded edges of selected keys – pausing at various letters and numbers – hovering, pondering, which ones to strike and which ones not.

In between, a thin grey line separating fantasy from reality; or it could be reality from fantasy, actually. Goes either way, but to different effects at times.

Wonder no more, for writers get a bulk of material from real life for your viewing pleasure: screaming kids running round in circles at reunion dinners; relatives that turn hostile and gladly haul each other to court, Murphy’s law swinging into full action at every other opportunity, guy proposes to his girl through a RM40k highway billboard, Erica Barry choosing Harry Sanborn over Julian Mercer…

It cannot be, but there you go. Splutter.

Details of this entry.Saturday, February 16, 2008, filed under Musings.
This entry is open to comments.
Recent tracks played are displayed on Last.fm.Brainy, The National

  1. you should visit salman rushdie’s essay/speech on how fiction tries to achieve the same thing as journalism.


    or at least a version of it.

    soporific | 20/02/08 06:42 PM

  2. Soporific – Hm.. will try to google for it. This makes a decent read as well:

    Strizzt | 20/02/08 07:36 PM

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