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20090305sakuramonday michiru - premiumix

 

I have a love affair with words. It is a love affair intensified when it is forbidden. Growing up, I was often told by parental authorities not to read certain books. They were too mature, too immoral, too encouraging-of-certain-values-not-conducive-to-the-traditional-and-conservative-upbringing-which-we-have-mandated-you-to-embrace. But I have a constitution. I can get tired of food, I can get tired of inane banter, I can get tired of people, I can get tired of work, I can get tired of movies, I can get tired of the internet, I can get tired of daydreaming, I can even get tired of fiction, but they are secondary to my constitution. My constitution is words. To stretch what words can do to make us say what we mean and mean what we say, or at least strive to do those things. I am in love with the way we feed off each other’s words, and I love the way we continue each other’s completed sentences. I am in love with the way we clarify meanings only to obscure them so that they can be clarified again. I love the way words are an uncountable commodity. Typing words, saying words and thinking of words are the fruit of your labour, but the utterance of a word by one person does not reduce another person’s ability to use it, in thought or in speech, in speech or in ink. I love the pleasant surprise of an unexpected verbal bite, unfolding the skins of a previously unobserved human condition. I shirk conflict, but love the game of meaning. I love how what I think you mean is not what you thought you meant but then in the process of realising what you meant we came to realise we must have come from the same premise after all. I love the rules and the flexibilities around the rules. I love the rhythm of a sentence and its silent proclamation in your head as you read it, but then as I write this I realise some people read in words while others read in phrases and yet a gifted few can gobble pages, but yes, a silent proclamation that words can make in your head. I love the way I pick up your words, pick up how you mean by them, pick up how others mean by them, come to a conclusion as to how I think they mean without resorting to the web, and employ the very same words in a manner uncannily like how you used them. I am always hungry for words, always looking for a new romance with words, an uncharted meaning you give me without realising it. It’s the secrecy of words, the unconditional contribution towards new meanings, new possibilities, new means of understanding without the boredom of easy answers, without the boredom of any answers at all. If I could write a love letter to words, it would look something like this: you make meaning possible and I love you for that.

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