Lipograms

A lipogram is a word-puzzle of sorts; it is more on the behalf of the author, but it involves the limiting of one's writing... Anyways... I got bored, thought I'd give it a whirl, so here it is for you people to stare at in dumb shock...

Twofold Insanity with Complaining
    To start, this is a composition of complaint. I will complain about that most prolific of imps in our linguistic compilation of Arabic symbols. This particular symbol is found past what is fourth in our ABCs, and in front of what is sixth. I abhor this symbol, and shall not allow it to dirty my writing from now on forward. You may ask why I hold such hostility toward this symbol. And I shall affirm your curiosity with what insanity has brought about my abrupt antipathy of it.

Twas a dark and stormy night- or possibly just cloudy- and my spinning of words was going particularly poorly. That is, I was training my vocabulary, diction, and writing capability. And I, arduous charcoal-stick pumping man that I am, found that a villain had a hold upon my writing. That is to say, I find this symbol appalling, and as training, I wish to avoid having its form tarnish my writing. In addition to my thoughts, upon additional analysis, my agitation at this blatant infiltration was brought validity. This symbol had sway in what I could and could not say in my writing. All too much sway, I thought. So this composition is my showing my abs of diction, that is, I am showing off, if this symbolism is too much for you. And, in addition to that, all this information is factual, and did occur in a fashion of tall talking.

This was only a start to what would turn into a most odd situation of passion most loathing. My writing was going poorly as I had said, and lo, a quaking passion to rid my writing of this symbol's touch did I find rising within my mind. I flung my charcoal stick against a wall, and froth pouring from my mouth, possibly an O.D. of Pop Rocks, I swung my foot into my chair with a loud crunch. This brought this raving to a finish quickly, as my rapidly crumpling form lands with a thud and a crash. During that short raving insanity of hating this symbol which controls much of writing, I finally found a way to abolish this symbol's control on all of our world’s writing. Through what you hold in front of you do I wish to start against this symbol an artistic motion, through which authors will avoid this symbol’s placing in works of writing.

For, you must know, this symbol is a gloating monstrosity, a villain and an all-consuming dictator of our vital vocabulary. It ingrains its foul form into all works of writing and of talking, dominating all who scrawl innovations of thought onto pads or P.C.s. It also assails any who spawn confabulations of words in a vocal and communal domain. Its corrupting and consuming mark is what I as an individual wish to rid my writing of. But why, you may ask. My way to fulfill you curiosity of my mission is to say to you that this is simply a difficult task which I wish to accost my writing with to allow my skill with word-spinning to grow. For I am an artist who has found ways to train his amazing skills of word-plying. I am akin to an arachnid, spinning my strands of words into a most astounding labyrinth of vocabulary to bring you into my way of thinking; that this arduous training can bring glory and sway to an author's writing.

Naturally, limiting my writing has complications, such as what I can and cannot allow into my writing, but with focus and fruitful labor with a book of synonyms I find my writing climbing rung upon rung of writing skill. So why do I talk of this laborious and arduous training of my own doing? That is an additional simplicity which I can show you a solution to. I wish for you to join my glorious mission to grow and flourish in skill of writing. No doubt as you look through my writing you will find it to contain naught but brilliant compositions of words in forms most savory. That is, with this lipogrammatic writing, I still am fully functional in my writing- I still find it fit and strong, and it holds no marks of frailty, nor any signs of failing, or any infirmity which may bring my sanity and skill into doubt.

With my sanity fully intact, it is now my aim to gain a following of writing folk who also wish to climb upward as an author of high-quality works. As soon as I obtain such a following, I will start an organization which shall hold opposition to this symbol in writing and vocal socialization. Many will find that joining this organization will bring vigor and flavor to what is writ by thar sticks of charcoal. Pardon, I find I am slipping up a bit. Not that this slows or inhibits my writing, or anything of that kind. I am as unhurt in my writing as always.

This brings what I scrawl to a following point- bumping off any who wish to hold this villainous symbol and still hold onto its application in writing. Dissolution of all and any who stand against my plan is a glorious notion; you who look at this will also find this an unfailing insight of a most profound and astounding wisdom of my holding. Why would you find this plot full to hold flaws? Or, what flaws could it hold- for I am all knowing, and my wisdom walks atop of many of our most thoughtful individuals. That is, I know my logic is right, and I wish to bring dissolution and doom to any who stand against my plans. It all is so amazingly lucid... I wish you could know this amazing clarity that I hold, but normal humans cannot fathom my visions. You all simply must hark to what I say, and follow instructions as told. Do not mind how mad my instructions might look; you must hold to my insight that I am a lofty individual who is all-knowing and totally not crazy.

But shall I stop at this small victory on my part? As soon as all who stood against my burning of my antagonist lay in coffins I shall start again with my purification. What now, you may ask? Ah-ha! I am so glad you do ask- it is what is found third from 0. This symbol looks similar to my antagonist, and for its sin, shall I bring it to its doom. Through all of this, I must say that my logic is totally lucid. Do you not concur? Not that I’m mad or anything… This is what writing should b! Or should it? I is totally co-hair-nt! It’s actually difficult and maudlin… For I hav purr-puss! No, my writing is now just full of words from a chop-shop of linguistic horrors. As a worm-choo'd cat might! I shall stop my contrary positioning of words at this point. Not that I hold a mark of insanity. I am totally lucid. I only thought it right to put down what I find floating twixt my blobs of auditory function. Which, at this point, is holding to two spots of thought most apart from any point I wish to mark as midpoint. Truly tragic this is. Obviously this writing cannot exist in a world run by sanity. My tragic failing in what is on top of this should show that this path of ardor has brought nothing but pain upon my brain.