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Array
(
[sid] => 29494
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => intelligent life
[time] => 2003-12-16 11:20:58
[hometext] => on being a writer....
[bodytext] => the smoke curled above their heads in the cafe on the boulevard where wine and whiskey fueled their thoughts and romantic notions ran free the era of writers and poets legendary names were born from this Paris corner cafe and they called it cafe society such brilliant minds and daring too they flaunted precious youth like some tantalizing jewel to talk and share intelligence to live in perfect bohemia it was a dream come true now the keyboard keeps us glued to each other day and night more seductive than the eiffel tower and so many more are here from all corners of the earth they bring their hearts and tears and romance blossoms so unlikely on the impersonal flcikering screen lasting only nanoseconds in this brave new realm what generation are we then what name shall we adopt how shall we go down in history or will we be a flop? words float by the billions in this sea of cyber soup what are we really doing here? writers must always write it is a fever in the blood but so many pretenders fakers and hangers on dillute the power of the pen ah paris was the season the celebration that we miss the recognition of each brave soul who dared to print his work but the essence still lingers at our fingertips well worn keyboards attest to it in this impersonal cold millenium we do what we can to rise above the mundane monotony and strife we are the generation of intelligent life [comments] => 1 [counter] => 184 [topic] => 21 [informant] => ianthe [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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