I miss writing

Most specially I miss reading. Kindle was awesome in that way that it would give me a sort of meeting half way between millions of scattered readings online and one extended focused novel reading by providing me with plenty to choose from in one place with no extra capabilities to distract the thought process. But most of all I miss writing, not the mental release I get from emptying words on a canvas, but the sense of productivity that I get from writing, as if it is a geniune step towards realization and materialization of my imagination. It's the creation in it's purest form, as it happens on the fly, flowing, and one by one, letters appearing and building a fine structure that is one level more real than the fleeting impulse of astonishment that passes through the conditioned grid of my  mind. As if when I talk, instead I create a momentary image in air with smoke that starts disappearing before I manage to finish up with the portrait, temporary, futile and mortal, yet fresh as spilling blood. Writing takes away a bit of that freshness, but contributes permanence that is of much more value than the temporality of the melting ice statue of the spoke word. And that permanence is the quality that gives me an extra chance to filter, remold, reshape, and redesign the creation, but it also gives it a quality of repeated revisiting and representability, which makes it a product, something of a value, most often false value, as quite statistically I can prove that they are often nothing but mere contentless forms and structures. Of course it is not the matter of the medium, as voice can also be recorded and edited aka. "produced" and made into a presentable product, but the extra human element of conversing and presenting immediately as soon as the thought is created and spoken in response or in reaction to the human element of the conversing and dialogue is something that adds to  stimulation of my reward system, and it prevents me from overthinking and over-analyzation that hinders the flow.

Blah.