Prompt for RWJ, Prompt 310

Hey guys I’m back. I’d been reading the letters of Iris Murdoch and getting stoked. For one she studied in Oxford. It’s a place I would have asked God to send me to. Why didn’t you, God? Yea I get such vicarious pleasure out of reading. It’s one step away from having the life you had wanted. Alright, many steps, I fibbed. I was just reading the part where she said: “Writing is the only activity which makes me feel ‘Only I could produce this.’ Whether or not ‘this’ is any use is of course the crucial question to which I know not, and may not ever know, the answer.” So do I have silent readers? No doubt reading and writing gives one such pleasure. A deep sort of pleasure. Depends of course what you read. Haha. It’s so satisfying that there’s no word for it…at least in English that I know of. It’s like being in the company of …Iris Murdoch, or whoever you’re reading. So for today write as if you’re in the company of someone.

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4 thoughts on “Prompt for RWJ, Prompt 310

  1. The Pleasure of Your Words

    You will forgive me, I hope, for crashing your party.
    I’ll just sit here on the fringe and only breathe.
    You probably won’t even notice my presence for
    I’m so totally in awe that I could not utter a word,
    in fact it would be a kind of heresy even to speak.
    I’ll be inebriated with the elixir of conversation,
    the excerpts of your writing, the praises, the critique,
    the literary acumen, the laughter, the jokes,
    the comradery of good friends. I will silently raise
    a toast to my good fortune to be in the presence
    of giants though I’ll have little inkling of what I hear.

    • Sorry, I posted too soon. I guess I wasn’t finished yet.

      You will forgive me, I hope, for crashing your party
      here at the “Eagle and Child”, No, please don’t
      get up, gentlemen, I’ll just scooch over here,
      sit on the fringe and breathe in this rarified air.
      You probably won’t even notice my presence for
      I’m so totally in awe that I could not utter a word,
      in fact it would be a kind of heresy even to speak.
      I’ll be inebriated with the elixir of conversation,
      the excerpts of your writing, the praises, the critique,
      the literary acumen, the laughter, the jokes,
      the comradery of good friends. I will silently raise
      a toast to my good fortune to be in the presence
      of giants though I’ll have little inkling of what I hear.

  2. Pingback: The Pleasure of Your Words, by Debi Swim | Red Wolf Journal

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