Perversion.

I've been ranting on and on for so long now, I guess it's about time I write about something serious.

As usual it's about writing in general. Why? Because I'm awesome.

*

What tears me apart nowadays is how the general public refers to writing. It used to be an intellectual hobby, somewhat elegant and classy. Yet nowadays, all we have is this: Extremely bad grammar, spelling which would put a toddler to shame and the lack of study and material put into said writing. I admit right now that I am not a lover of what the public calls fan-fiction, however, I do know that it takes quite a lot of skill to write a piece as shown here. What truly disappoints me is that some of these so called authors of the new age, just do not care about what they write.

Now I know, some of you might go ahead and present to me your rebuttal, saying that it does not matter, all is good if the readers like it. I agree, but only to a certain extent. Correct me if I am wrong but how is it that one writes masterpiece after masterpiece is one does not love one's own writings? Frankly, I do believe that it is preposterous, impossible even. Having no love for your writing is; and forgive me for giving this example, like trying to procreate without a partner and that is exactly what you see nowadays. Too many people are trying to gain fame and in the end, writing becomes just another means of greed. The pattern goes as follows: Write as many as possible, promote it by ways which by all means is abominable and then watch as it is either loved or left to rot. And if it does rot, the cycle begins once more.

I remember having a brief chat with a distant cousin, who herself is a fellow writer. Good or not, I forbid myself to decide because I have never set eyes upon her material. As we were discussing about certain authors, she sad to me and I quote '... so I've decided to race you. Our goal is to become the first to write the great Malaysian novel...' Of course, I did not overreact and slap her with my gloves, because one; she's four decades older (Yes, hence the term distant) and two; I do not own any gloves. Only gauntlets. Digression.

That showed me though what writing has degenerated into nowadays. A race. A common game. Mankind has succeeded once again into destroying one of it's finest jewel.

Laziness has now come over me. I shall retire and rest.

One last thing.

Fuck. It's never complete without that eh?