2/16/23

I talked to my favourite lizard last night, I asked him what his understanding about love is. "Love is a perfect, ripe mango eaten in the afternoon sunlight." he told me. Alot of what he tells me is very cryptic and very hard to decipher, but I don't ask him to elaborate upon it so I guess the fault is mostly mine. But maybe figuring it out is my job for me to look at the world better. After all, he's the reason I started writing in the first place.

He wrote a poem, it went like this:

"a locker filled with dead butterflies, pinned and displayed beneath glass.

lying beneath a body.

removing the bricks out from under my feet.

if this is the way i love, why do i feel so--"

He writes without capital letters and he says it has a couple functions for him. He says that it keeps the tone of the writing, no matter how technical it gets, he likes to keep it casual. He says that when he writes he treats it like a message, so the voice that comes out is purely his. Sticking to the personal, casual voice is something he really values as a writer. Many of his favourite authors maintain a style like that and to him it comes off as more compelling and touching. The casualness keeps him from overthinking and overburdening himself so he can feel more comfortable publishing something that he doesn't see as perfect, because otherwise he can and will think the piece to death.

I aspire to be like my lizard friend. I envy him alot, but don't tell him this. I envy his writing. I envy how well he can express his thoughts using words. I envy how he uses those words so well that they have substance. I envy the way he writes so profoundly without coming off as pretentious. I envy how he can make me imagine sceneries in vivid detail. 

I plan to write about my lizard friend more, expect to see him often.