I (sometimes) call myself Mr. Pondersome. I'm a rather wordy, weirdy person. I say hullo a lot. I write a lot more. While you're here, why not give some of it a read?

Sunday, 12 June 2016

WRITING ON WRITERS (a.k.a. Advice to Absurdity)

Writing is like eating spinach whilst doing cartwheels.

Writing is responding to a pillar box.

Writing is wondering why only one half of the chimney is wet.

Writing is like pretending you're a goat herd when really you're a cow herd. Same height.

Writing is the exact same thing as thundering.

Writing is a synonym for helmet hair.

Writing is artfully melting an ice cub between two oven gloves.

Writing can and should be wroting.

Writing should never be Bob Newhart in his best beret.

Writing is just like adapting in a half-chewed shoe box.

Writing is a Glaswegian Penelope.

Writin g is w riting.

Writing is the third vestige of the sarcophagus-eclipsed.

Writing to flick off elves is glib.

Writing at a Tuscan tugboat is surely prescient.

Writing should be in the prescient tense.

Writing with zebra-striped ifs is a crux.

Writing after Thursday 3rd makes your turban horny.

Writing before the Figgy Wives Club is a charitable implosion.

Writing towards talcum powder rations.

Writing away from the interviewer's garden nozzle.

Writing poetic haymakers.

Writing prosaic blue handles.

Writing out of the frog's clammy gulag.

Writing inside the Pollack door frame.

Writing somewhere Fallopian.

Writing somewhere among the woodchip.

Writing somehow to stammer Howarth Howard.

Writing as a a gnitriw.

Writing with an eye gouge.

Writing without a Teresa CD.

Writing because of ample sideburns.

Writing is like form-fitting form-filling.

Writing is just about kebabs at dawn.

Writing is like perishable trapeze glands.

Writing is rockstar huh

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