sun shines on, day carries on, words of wonderance amongst the December days about

Am I “good” at writing? Am I just some quasi-poetic wordsmith'er? I tend to feel I have little quips and moments of Capote-inspired, wanna-be “good word making”, but I really have no way of making that happen. I sort of drum up a way to put together some melodic formation of text and say: “yep, thems the words to make people feel nice”.

As where someone of talent (like Capote) was a person who wrote that way, and flexed muscle of immense talent 24/7. He said of Kerouac at one point, “that's not writing, it's typing”. So maybe I'm more in alignment with someone who types more than anything.

Truth: I'd sell my soul and first blog to be able to have Capote, Kerouac, Lee (Harper Lee), or Hunter S Thompson gander at the text mash I put on-screen at some point, and see how they reacted to it. Would they love it? Would they dismiss it? Would they criticize it? I'd be hanging off their every word.

I stray a fair distance from writers of significance in the world – be it a legendary author, or...yea, just authors. Not only because I am an un-published “so and so”, but because I don't feel any ballpark comparison is something I'm comfortable with, nor is there a connection/permeation as to why such a comparison would be made in the first place. Like comparing a hot dog stand vendor to a bank executive – not too many roads of similarity to be traveled to get from point A to point B. I write and document life as I see it, but the art/craft of writing in general is the only tethered similarity about me and them.

Anyway, the coffee is nice. And as stated, the sun is shining. A nice day, I'd say.

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