Sliding Scale Between Laugh And Cry

For those who don't know me, I like listening to Gispy Jazz, Flamenco, and music in the Latin language. I'm also into Synthwave, and Cyberpunk music. As I listen to some of the latest Flamenco, I can't help but reflect back on what I first started writing. I've always loved katharsis, but find that, particularly last year, the obsession for such was gradually taking over my life. It became a kind of addiction.

When you compare the songs La Paloma and Lilium, you'll find a lot of songs that are in the La Paloma camp, but not so much in the Lilium camp. And yet for the stories I write these days, they have a special kind of sadness I'm having difficulty try to compare to. Because it's not explicitely depressing like Elfen Lied, but isn't like the autobiography of the guy that wrote the song La Paloma.

It's less of an issue if all you write is prose, but it's a major issue if you also happen to be a poet. Although at times I suppose generally songs don't have an emotional equivalent, you have to listen to that particular song in order to get that exact feeling.

When I write, the distinction between my poetry and my prose can sometimes be somewhat blurry, although I'm trying to remedy this fact, by having less purple prose. So you end up with the same old darkness, but without the purplle prose of literary fiction. Maybe it's just because I'm continuing a work that was originally suppose to be a lite novel, but it feels like my writing is taking on a different direction again.

I just hope my friends on honeyfeed wont be dissapointed if Anna-Marie With Her Shotgun turns out to be like, way darker than Uploaded Fairy, and with less funny moments.