Viktor Medrano gives a nicely personal narrative of his constant conlanging on his Glossopoeisis page.
25 June 2011
07 June 2011
About 50 days ago my best friend had a major stroke. He has regained some alertness and some control of the left side of his body but he still can't speak or write. Visiting him in the nursing home is surreal, as I do a monologue describing local events and the condition of his house and his pets, and he says nothing.
Such a vulnerable situation, to be nearly immobile in a bed in a nursing home and unable to speak for yourself, unable even to moan or say "ouch" when in pain.
I tip my hat to Yaldabaoth, the demented demigod who created this world and filled it with disease and hatred and death, all of which are reflections of his own corrupted nature. Yaldabaoth, your skill in obfuscating and dooming all that is good astounds me. And yet I know that we will ultimately destroy you.
at 8:10 PM