The over exaggerated facts and art of writing a Daily Journal:
I keep a pen in my pocket and a paper plonked in every book. The variations in voices transmute, sometimes there is a similitude in what I can hear and which negates disparity, resonate subtle meanings. Words wipe and evaporate yet reflections and images reappear. I have started encomiums of Whitman and legendary Pythagoras. Both in their own capacity consummate the extent of skill, science, dross of art. I feel inevitably drawn towards writing. To angulate its any geometer. Arrange mechanics on the outset and to weave the web of art by niche of understanding. It is an addiction, foreplay of passion, slowly apt to settle on verge of ligaments and within tendons of mind, silhouette of personality and before becoming a realization the repression starts to float rhythmically.
Moody 27 August 2005