10 Reasons Why I'll Never Clickbait; or, You Won't Believe Number 6

    a (n unproofred) love story.


It started with charcoal drawings on caves. Later, rudimentary systems of the written word to describe where best to find food. Probably. We can't really be sure. We know that God is, at least partly, Word, though - right? 

Trade route mapping. Inventory. The invention of zero (one of the more fascinating concepts I'll need to save for another day). Decree dissemination. Writing takes center stage in a global effort to become progressive, advanced beyond where it ever has been.

Gutenberg's Press enabled the spread of literacy, the insatiable thirst for information. Founding Fathers penned impassioned, eloquent, and immaculately calligraphed documents rife with weighty words supporting even heavier ideas. They wrote sentences like "When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the
political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation."

Read it again.

And again.

It puts knots in your throat.


I may not be particularly conservative, but I do believe the documents established in the beginnings of our country to be the most gorgeously written and wonderfully argued paragraphs ever put to paper. 

Words were freedom. 

Politicians used reason to push forth new ideas, poets wove sentences like reeds into baskets to change the course of a nation's consciousness. Teenagers who emulated them scrawled treatises to the great loves of their lives in their best hand to surreptitiously slip into the air vents of heart-adorned lockers.

Then they held boomboxes over their heads.

Then the instant messages. Then the text messages, but only 250 a month. Emails with lowercase "I"s because aloofness was suddenly "in." 

Tweets. Duck faces. Emojis. Paragraph breaks replacing paragraphs. 

Succinct over verbose.

This is how

a heavily-trafficked article

looks now.

"Just copy this sentence in cursive and then sign your name." 
"What does a cursive 'f' look like, again?"





Me. Cave. Fire. Tweet. Kissy face.


Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.