the third time i tried the blog. maybe it will work (shitty first drafts)

im really mad right now. my elegant blog was just deleted. I'm going on a tangent just like Anne, except the talking mice are defective internet connections. I just gotta bottle them up, write about it, and come up with some ludacris idea to pull it all together.
sounds like art to me. Well earlier i came to a conclusion about what makes literary genius
Some stuff just comes out, other stuff is just carefully edited and calculated into a structure.
I said i doubt a genius could really define what it means to be genius.
Who knows.
Anyways, I was busy critiquing her idea about shitty first drafts. It's like obviously a draft isn't going to be very good. What does a draft do, it BLOWS. Yay puns. But seriously, i feel like the ideas were pretty simple and elementary. But hey, one mans trash is another mans treasure.
My favorite part of this whole blogging adventure had to be the twenty minutes i spent trying to get the page to load, because the stuff on the page was not very interesting to me.
Maybe im just mad, maybe i'm venting. Ok yeah im mad. It's probably dulling down my writing ability. I'm not inferring much or thinking about the text, but whatever. Its expression.
But back to the subject. How did she have a eureka from someone saying "its a piece of chicken." That makes no sense to me because its just really obvious. Something obvious to one person isn't so obvious to another though.
We all view the world differently. Thats why its such a great place. That's why i feel that the art of literature is lost when people edit and re-edit everything, it takes away from the soul of the piece.
So like how is a shitty draft even in existance. Some of the best things just come right off the top of your head. They are profound, simple and elegant, and tailored just to you. Just likek the chicken quote, it made sense to her and she realized it. Its beautiful in a way. But it all depends on the perspective, the looking glass, that you're reading the words through.
Oh the bliss of persception