Some men just
For your dignity.
Serious question. For a writing assignment.
For every writer; for every creator.
For every “other” pen.
This right here is my contribution to online magazine ITCH, a journal of creative expression. The theme for this edition’s publication is Manifestos. I decided to write one for every writer, for every creator, who inks and creates and has a sense of “otherness” about them. And I think, inherently, we all feel like we’ve been cast to the margins at times in our lives (I could say, ‘except the white male’, but then even among that group exists persons who are outlawed due to their sexuality, or even by way of very bane ideas, like tastes in clothing or women, because that is the make-up of our society, sadly). That is also the beauty of existentialism; we’re all in this together, yet so differently.
For those of us who choose to express our experiences through art, this manifesto I lend to you as a reminder to write/create not only from the margins etching closer to the centre (of YOUR whole entire being), but to write about and for those who are often left voiceless on the outskirts, sitting on the edge of the page.
Here are a couple of quotes from the editorial team:
Chris Thurman, on What Good are Manifestos?, “Manifestos, I have realised while reflecting on this bold new issue of Itch, are manifestations of courage and conviction in a world of cowardice and compromise. Manifestos are evidence that artists and writers are proud of what they do, what they feel, and yes, what they believe.”
Karina Magdalena Szczurek, In Our Virtual Hands, quoted a line from my very own, “And here I am, part of the kind of online creativity platform Qra and I had once dreamt of, working with others, who in the words of Lucinda de Leeuw are not afraid to “uncover the blank page” (“The Pen’s Manifesto”).”
“what kind of rule is that?”
he asked. “God doesn’t make
I turned around and looked at him:
“maybe not, but I
— Charles Bukowski, I Like Your Books.
All the words that I utter,
And all the words that I write
Must spread out their wings untiring,
And never rest in their flight,
Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,
And sing to you in the night,
Beyond where the waters are moving,
Storm-darken’d or starry bright.
with human beings reciprocity is a fleeting and evasive concept. Some people give, some people take — never both; few try to.
And now to add some La Havas lyrics to top off my sentiments in musical spectacle, “So what happened to you? I thought I knew you… No more chances. I’m gone, gone, gone.”