Welcome. Anonymous Author holds a mirror to the face of humanity, asking what it really means to be human,

and in doing so blurs the line between what is good and bad writing.



Follow AnonAuth on Twitter

Thursday, September 30, 2010

People who bother me.

People who fail to understand that it is them who is bringing everyone down bother me.

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Type.

This seemingly insignificant tract of type expects you to figure everything out for yourself.

Learned.

If anyone tells you they have ever learned anything from what I have written, let me tell you they are lying.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Error 404.

Madness.

Being mad is a great excuse for giving reign to hate and bad behaviour and bad jokes, while handing over to others responsibilities for one's life; the effect being to cause as much trouble as possible while remaining a virtuous victim.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Metaphysical Fridays.

Considering your brain is conscious and fully functioning for up to 20 seconds post-decapitation, it's possible that it has already happened. Can you ever be totally sure no one is behind you?

Thursday, September 23, 2010

People who bother me.

People who shuffle lamely through life at the speed of radioactive decay bother me.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Nothing.

A nothingness of incomprehensibility is a sensible outcome if you really think about it.

Venn diagram.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Colour plate.

Suspension.

In belief of certain types, the will must be passive and the intellect suspended; a realm of phantoms entered into.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Discovery.

I have discovered that you have a single weakness: that you are weak.

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Introspection.

Take a good long hard look inside yourself. Like what you see? Is it revealed that you are a fat, drunk, cliche with bad feelings? Do you discover a grim euphoria in what you find? Or both?

Friday, September 17, 2010

Pleasure.

Metaphysical Fridays.

Once you have read this you cannot unread it, and so your dalliance with its meaning is unavoidable, even if you should try to avoid considering its purpose.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

People who bother me.

People who feel good and moral about themselves while stipulating that the moral high ground is where others are not, bother me.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Trust.

On my third visit, the bottle of rum came out in full view before breakfast. He lifted it to his lips and swigged gleefully, directing a knowing glance and a lopsided smile at me. He'd obviously decided I could be trusted (and after only three visits!) I was flattered and burdened.

Accent.

I have the rare gift of easily imitating accents in writing: The blue towel in the cupboard is threadbare (Spanish);  The blue towel in the cupboard is threadbare (American English). 

Monday, September 13, 2010

Experiences.

The next person you see, tell them that I asked you to tell them to read this so that you both have a shared experience; I know how lonely it can get.

Actinic word sequence.

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Friday, September 10, 2010

Affirmation.

Over-analysis of why 'having it all' isn't as life-affirming as you'd expect is best resolved when you accept a portion of your daily life as being an unavoidable series of minor disappointments.

Metaphysical Fridays.

The announcement that my ability to focus was stifled by the ruthless grip of ennui drew a visceral response from Carl, who, shouting above the roar of the wind, suggested that perhaps I should have made peace with the absurdity of human existence before I joined him on a world record tandem paragliding attempt.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Feeling.

She told me she had an inconsiderate suitor: he didn't feel what he knew he should feel.

People who bother me.

People who display ostentation in mute eloquence bother me.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Actinic word sequence.

Memory.

Once again I'm experiencing amnesia and deja vu simultaneously. I'd forgotten how familiar it feels.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Colour plate.

Fiction.

Nothing is universally truer than a work of fiction set in an imaginary world by an anonymous author. Nothing is less reliable than eyewitness accounts of a specific event by two well-known historians.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Verb.

Anticipation.

Whatever it is you anticipate gaining from reading this post, there is no way I can know what that might be at the time of writing. I'll hazard a guess: that you are looking for semantic insight and lexical inspiration to help turn your life around. If that is correct, I find it too heavy a burden, so will provide neither.

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Naming rights.

Choose an epithet for me. You'll think of something; it's what you do.

Friday, September 3, 2010

Pagophagia.

Metaphysical Fridays.

A friend of mine has a predilection for sugary snacks. Cory is a practicing Buddhist, and when his teeth required attention due to decay he decided not to use pain relief. He's not ideologically opposed to the drugs, rather his refusal to accept anesthesia was because he wanted to transcend dental medication.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Voice.

The only time I am present in my dialogues is to explain my absence. For example, today I am attending a b-list celebrity book launch so will be unable to write an excerpt on the origin of the universe. Had I been here to do so, I would have written in the third person. I do not write in my own voice; there will be no treatise on the subject of my own ideas; all of these words are yours. 

I think I am.

She told me that when it came to us the only things worth considering were those things about which there was no more to consider. I said I had no idea what she meant, and she said exactly, only ideas are worth contemplating; nothing else is real. I scratched my non-existent head with my non-existent fingers and said nothing. Now you're getting it, she nodded.

People who bother me.

People who reach out to pull an imaginary rope, thinking that somewhere a bell will sound, bother me.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010