Waiting for this, and more

Writer's block.

I feel as if there is some crushing loss (void) of beauty in my life. Not to say that I live in an industrial warehouse of depressing smog, smudge, and soot, or that the people who surround me are rat-like, nasty or brutish. Just that I miss eloquence--the swift, smooth weave of words that make it such a pleasure to read, write, speak, listen.

Academic eloquence is not the same. Too many -tions, too many flat and unresounding nouns, falling heavy and heaving in a mass of dense meaning, ideas and ideas that sludge and slide, that make it hard for you to slice through, to grasp!, unless you're willing to push your thick head through, hoping for a divine reward of an idea.

And when the reward is meager, or indefensible, or poorly constructed--and poorly written, too--your head groans.

"Again?" it asks. Yes, again. We wait for the light of the real, poignant idea, that shines by its own merit of sound evidence and argument, that lights us to progress, exploration.

Waiting for this.