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                Here’s a second installment of what let’s term “non-repentant direct words.” And they’ve earned that title, I feel, simply because their author continues his refusal to accept as gospel all supposed “truths” and “absolutes” concerning written prose. And the moniker “direct words” is theirs for two reasons. First, they’re written under their author’s true identity – of course his “normal” procedure is the use of pseudonyms; and second, they’re perhaps somewhat abrupt in both their “tone of voice” and content.

                And now, before I go any further, I must admit that as I’ve begun writing these words, I’ve realized that they probably should speak of “literary matters” first, and then most likely also “deal with” concerns, realizations, and theories the author may have regarding all of human life. Thus, it seems appropriate to divide those two “distinctions” into two separate posts. And that’s what I’ll do. But I can’t tell you for certain that the second of them (which will actually be my third posting using my own name) will immediately follow this one after a duration of two weeks. Some of the residents of “the city” may have what they feel are important disclosures to document before that.

                Nevertheless, let’s carry on now with some ramblings concerning “literary output.” And as I’ve said, they probably are somewhat blunt. But, in my opinion it’s better to state one’s true beliefs concerning the subjects to be discussed than to attempt some sort of “falsification of character” whereby one would “lessen” or “modify” one’s perhaps somewhat controversial stances and views, and, in effect probably lie and tell readers one “believes in” or “feels about” certain topics in a certain fashion when in fact that’s not the case.

                Thus, if you really want to know “the real man,” be prepared to pay a price for his anti-establishment ways. But wait – when he says he’s not of the establishment, that doesn’t mean he opposes all that capitalism and modern man have done. No, he understands the need for the expenditure of money to purchase goods and services, and he certainly respects humanity, but he’ll do what he can to thwart the “ism of profits,” and mankind in general from abridging individual freedoms if ever they should become inclined to do so.

                And here’s an introductory “slap in the face” of sorts. Remember, one either has something of worth to say or else he or she doesn’t. And also, one either ultimately possesses the innate ability to express worthwhile sentiments well, or else he or she doesn’t.  And all the educational degrees in the world, all the writing conferences attended, and all the prose and/or poetry contests entered will never change those two realities of fact.

                But one day a basically discredited writer said in jest that he’d read, and now used as his personal literary bible, a fictional (in more ways than one) tome entitled “RESTRICTIONS WE AS GOOD USERS OF THE WRITTEN WORD HAVE PLACED UPON CREATIVE WRITING DUE TO OUR REVERANCE FOR CIVILITY, TRADITION AND COMMON COURTESY.” And, he informed mankind then that this revelatory (and imaginary) book disclosed all the tenets of proper prose and poetry to which all “users” or “manipulators” of word craft should religiously adhere.  

                And he said that its authors had strongly advised those whom they termed “non-believers” to quickly access any protestant, catholic (as they apparently were using that word in an adjective connotation denoting some sort of all-inclusiveness), or, if all else failed, any sort of non-denominational affiliation of non-verbal communication. “Watch yourselves,” they cautioned. “Tread lightly there you members of humankind who attempt creativity with the use of any electronic devices, word processors, typewriters, or mere pens and pencils.”

                Yet, tragic though it certainly is, today there apparently are a few unfortunate writers who, like Lucifer, are beyond forgiveness for all they’ve done. And they’ve evidently toiled in the fields of prose and poetry always sinfully breaking the very rules they should have been offering fidelity to.  And thus, for them, there is no hope of eventual authorial recognition, but, what’s worse than that, some say they’ll spend eternity now learning and relearning all they should have known intuitively during their temporal sojourns within the realms of literature. 

                But maybe, even if they are eternally banished, blacklisted, or merely censored, they’ll still be able to say “I believed in the individual. And I believed that every mortal, regardless of gender, race, economic background, etc., had the right to learn what was really right and what was really wrong, even though some said certain portions of what’s really right are wrong, and vice versa.

                And also, let’s say this while we’re still capable of saying it:  There’s no need for anyone to be in any particular state of awe concerning anyone (and yes, that includes the man speaking here today) whose face one might see, or whose words one might read on any screen or in any print medium. But yes, we congratulate and (what’s of far more importance) thank all those who’ve in any way made life better for the inhabitants of planet Earth. Still, even some of them, whose actions were undeniably extremely worthwhile and helpful to mankind as a whole, couldn’t adequately verbalize, and therefore simply tell us all the good they’d done. And some of them, as was no doubt the case also with many other less famous mortals, came to learn two “controversial truths” concerning all that’s ever been written. First, if one has really nothing of substance to say, “flowery language” won’t hide that fact, although, most often those with little of worth to say are no doubt incapable of such prose to begin with; and, second, certainly the ability to use words creatively can be learned to some extent, but to a much greater extent, as was alluded to in the fifth paragraph of this piece, travelling about to various conferences and seminars provides only an embellishment to one’s either very real or lacking innate ability to use language well. 

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