The Scrivener's Jest

It is the work of art that makes the outcome useful. We forget that to our detriment.

So much of this digital space is beautiful and meaningless. Give me the grime. Give me your rough drafts and typos. Let me read your misused words and inconsistent lines. Let me see your art, imperfect and imprecise. Let it be broken and mistaken, but let it be you.

The world is buried in replication and with each copy we further degrade. A thousand images and stories that all look the same. Parody fails because what we ridicule is already a parody of itself. Significance is buried and lost. We feel alone. Each one of us, a single human in a universe of mannequins. The digital was never meant to be clean. We are, after all, messy machines.

So, give me your mess. Give me your chaos and your truth. Be ugly and dirty. Be hungry and aroused. There is no shame in humanity, only in the lazy and vain attempts to quash it.

I understand that it is hard. The words are not always there. My hand is rarely steady, and I color outside the lines. My voice cracks when I sing, but still I sing. Still, I write. Still, I add the color to my creations. They are never perfect, but they are mine. When I share them, I share a piece of myself.

Your copied works do not impress me. They degrade your value and demean you. You are silent with them. They speak for you and tell me all I need to know.