And taxes

Friends,

I would like to celebrate the one-twelfth anniversary of this little experiment by announcing its demise. I'm not one to allow things to fade away. Advarp ends here.

I tend to write rules for myself, stupid little things, where I see something that I think should not be, and I say to myself, out loud, "I will not do it that way."

Advarp came about that way.

But, I have some unfinished business:

Briefly, Peace, Love, Empathy: The Nineties was supposed to be about empathy. Unlike other situations I've written about, Part One was mostly truthful. Part Two was supposed to explain most of the empathy. I would have had to make up a lot of Part Two, as what I had lived didn't really illustrate the situation I'd set up in Part One. I would have said how I discovered that the song was written about Kurt Cobain's suicide by linking the 'chorus' of the song with his suicide note. From this, I would desire for meaning in song lyrics - I would be converted by the revelation. Then, I look for meaning, but I would often fail to find it. So I give up, and pay no attention to the lyrics.

The narrative was supposed to highlight how I have felt recently, where I've tried to understand the meaning of something, beyond the obvious face value meaning, but fell short. It is empathy because I understand how most of you might be feeling when reading Advarp. I tell people, there's meaning here. But it is tough to find. It requires too much effort. I gave up. You give up. I give up.

So, that was my approach. [Yes, there was meaning in everything, even if it was a little in joke, or a movie reference, or something.]

People not understanding wasn't the reason for my pulling the plug, though. It was me losing sight of my ideals. Forgetting [both intentionally and accidentally] that I'd written down [yes, I'd written it down] some rules for an approach to Advarp.

PLE: TN: Part One made it obvious that I wasn't doing what I was supposed to be doing. It was a terrible piece. I'd put in the effort of writing it, and realised that the effort was for nothing - it took me two hours to get that done, and it comes out as shit. I see in the letter the lack of effort in that effort, if you get what I'm saying. It has always been a difficult task, writing for this Advarp thing, but I knew what I was getting myself into.

The rules are to blame. If the rules were better, they would allow for better writing. I didn't write the rules well enough that it allowed the shit to fall through.

SUBTLE: Don't force it down people's throats. It'll take time. Patience.

This was one of my rules. I'd given up on the 'patience' - thirty-one days is not a long time. There are many other rules, but there's no need to go into detail.

It didn't work out. The fit wasn't right. These are damaged goods, now.

Advarp ends here. The decision of the author is final. No correspondence will be entered into.

After one month and eight letters, Advarp and Martin have decided to cease their collaboration. The decision was amicable, and they maintain good relations between each other. Each have decided to pursue their own projects.

Sincerely.