and that, in fact, is why i took to inventing languages. words are not tired revisions used to form the same expressions, that, despite any significant emotional cause, export a mundane sense to the listener. (this, is, of course, why we have made the writer’s craft the way it is — to say something novel, rather, to say something in a novel and thereby more interesting/emotive way, we are forced to use already existing words while investing them with new meaning). no: new words are new. in creating a language i bring myself to a clean space, uncluttered by the gnarl of English; a space rather like a pristine snowscape. there is no need for devices like metaphor, because i can impute the full artistic meaning and emotion of my angst or joy in the words themselves. to me, this is power. i stand and survey my antarctic scene, devoid of everything save my own footprints, and unsullied by the mucking about of millions of other people who’ve forgotten what language is for. it is powerful because it is pure, a fresh start, an eden with all the potential beauty not yet crushed by brutal actuality. if i could, i would live there, and take that purity for my own cloak, leaving behind the sordid and mind-numbing particularism of the Present Age. i would speak new words in my language: the language of the Age to Come.
