Tag: writing

Perpetuum mobile

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

I can’t remember if I ever wanted to say something in particular, if my words had any intended purpose, at least not since the very beginning, when the first verse coincided with the end of puberty and was meant to impress a girl. It did not. I wonder what she’d say now—not that it would matter, and her face has been lost to the mists of time anyway. Perhaps that’s what always drew me to what Socrates said about poets in the ‘Apology’. At least, after more than three decades, my writing—although not a perpetuum mobile—is as close to self-perpetuating as one gets.

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A real writer

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Tell me, are you a real writer? I mean, does anybody buy what you write or publish it or anything?
Breakfast at Tiffany’s (Blake Edwards, 1961)

I guess I’m not a real writer
since no one buys my tortuous words
and I haven’t published anything—
at least not in English—
unless you count the bottomless pit
of the world wide web. But let’s start small
and get yourself that box first.

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I am who I am

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski5 Comments

Each and every one of us likes to think that we are unique in our special way, but at the end of the day, there is always a Darwin or a Wallace who will find a pigeonhole for us in the taxonomy. If I had to characterise myself, it might be something like this:

  • Domain: Vocabulia (the users of words as opposed to Pugnia, who would rather use their fists)
  • Kingdom: Eloquentia (the effective users of language as opposed to Prolizi, that is, word wasters)
  • Phylum: Creatores (rather self-explanatory, as is the opposition: Interpretes)
  • Class: Scriptores (basically, writers vs. Oratores, that is, speakers)
  • Order: Poetae (poets, obviously, with Prosatores, prose writers, standing on the other side of the fence)
  • Family: Matutinae (who write in the morning, unlike Noctilucidae, who prefer the darkness of the night)
  • Tribe: Puristae (pure like the glass of water on their desk vs. Stimulantes, who can’t write a line without at least a sniff of coffee and cigarettes)
  • Genus: Hedonici (writing for eternal pleasure as opposed to Pecuniarii Pii, who write for money, but only from a pious source)
  • Species: Poeta Purus Hedonicus (I’d like to believe it’ll be me while I keep the copy of Stanley and Danko under my bed)

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The ignoble writing implement

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Why does the word ‘computer’
not have the noble ring of a ‘fountain pen’?
Even a ‘typewriter’ sounds better
than the name of the Difference Engine’s progeny,
though I could always say that I wrote this verse
on my PC (yuck!) or a desktop.

I wonder if the poet had the same problem
when quills had gone out of use.

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A penman

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

As a discreet couch dweller,
keenly collecting calloused complements,
I have long found this protracted writers’ retreat—
or, as others call it, life—a rather daunting experience,
yet a certain sense of entitlement, albeit an off-putting one,
is to be expected in the heights of the Anthropocene,
with all those inflated egos and hopes
born amongst orphans in the making—
of which I am one.

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I keep talking

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I have nothing to say, and yet I keep talking,
meticulously combining nouns, personal pronouns, and verbs,
adding an occasional adjective here and there, so as to hide
in the multitude of dependent clauses—each introduced with the most unique
subordinating conjunction I can think of—my utter inability to form and express
an original thought of my own (it’s a bit like in the kitchen
when you dream of your own signature dish,
or at least a decent phoritto or some other fusion food,
and you end up reheating a ready-made meal, glad
you didn’t burn it).

One word

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Whether I close my eyes or the curtains, nothing makes me so bold as to strip
the act of performed nightly routines of their supposed innocence,
and yet here and there I catch a flicker of doubt creeping onto the page,
occasionally jamming the typewriter or spilling out in an inkblot
as if it were the revenge of a worn-out fountain pen I was given when I came of age.

At least the pencil maintains a semblance of decency—which is a little unsettling
since it’s not my favourite writing implement—so I wonder if it might help me
retrieve from the rubble I’ve hoarded over the years the one word I need most.
Perhaps then I will learn what I’ve been looking for so desperately all this time,
even if it’s only enough for a brass plaque on the backrest of a park bench.

A matter of practice

Published on by Maciej ModzelewskiLeave a comment

I think I’m overthinking this—life, I mean.
After all, how complicated can it be?

You wake up in the morning,
pee,
wash your hands,
prepare breakfast,
eat it,
brush your teeth,
change,
sit in front of the computer for a few hours doing something someone thinks is important enough to pay you for,
have lunch,
read an essay or manhwa,
work some more,
have dinner while watching a coming-of-age comedy drama or isekai anime,
go for a walk,
do some grocery shopping on the way home,
find a suitable time filler for the evening—write a poem, perhaps,
take a shower,
brush your teeth,
jump into your pyjamas,
and go bye-byes.

After a while, you become proficient enough to forget the last time you asked:
Is that all?