You may recall my one-hour writing experiments from a while back (I never posted those; I plan doing that soon); this morning, right after my MRI, I sat down and wrote for a solid half-hour. I've got to say that, as far as all this stream-of-consciousness stuff goes, I've gained much more control over the material; this has also become a much more fulfilling exercise. Well, eithout further ado...
January 18, 2005
30 Minuteswell why so desperate why so sour let's try for half a minute let's try for half an hour 80s 70s ever whatever poetry is OK brainscan is oll korrect well where do you go from here how do you manifest words cut short cut down to a moment of silence point and click point and shoot this indeed is the root of the problem this is a sooty emblem of teenage committee or comedy by the akira committee neon genesis evangelion one two free to the max how does consciousness stacks in spindles and swindles me of the only pleasure of knowing how it's coming along & where I'm going blah blah blah lalala I think faster than I think faster than I can write I think faster than a dream sex pandering faster than the speed of delight now why won't you just open up to me say I know what you are you know what i mean lensman doesn't make a man but neither does a caravan of emotionless debriefing of breath learn the stealth of keeping mechanisms of keeping wild time under covers of dark put it in reverse part your ass on the caoutchouc learn to speak belgian frites learn to read to lovely rita two neon menopause men will paws to look at brooke heather blowing a ten gigakm guy's cock how's sex for a writer's block how's cum around the house and I'll do you right there and then in the asinine assets of white flesh and inky temperatures of the based in reality what is normality but a dereliction of bangladesh to penis contradiction of virgin manila envelops everyone in a bit of skanky ho stop the deprivation of war point your mother fucking nuclear warheads at the sun show the fucker now it's on like a ball of fire speak into the microtone microphone perforate your elephantines blowing the wingtips of the fag of war and say well excuuuuse me I saw it before i lived this life now for naught but listen man I simply forgot my name oh it'll come like a trainload of spermatozoa it will aah vulate the proto and metazoa aaah no this is not an exit mr. emorican psycho mr. penile recanting descanting despite despot on the stove what who came in troves to see you die why do you still persist in saying I over i equals why won't you live well the antisex place won't call you well they'd like to believe you care but you were never butter for them in fact you were never there o great masturbator tempt me with silver manicky panicky manacles of pain sing it again i have no class contract expand dexterity of invention the mother of invention is a dirty trucker named sid who lives to the nickname mother fucker because he's had the mother loader driver how will you survive her absence in the absence of rubber soles easy the answer is pickled tomatoes and synthahol whatever it is if it's the same as synthesizer to music then hell yeah baby I could use it for a nice mincemeat injection no don't start now about dejection don't tell me how no one loves you hell they worship the ground your labia walks on so go underground borrow shovels and dig underage molesters hole in the wall take a brick to the prick make him swallow it whole and posit why do I have two existentialist spores I respond mango juice is the force of giants and witchhazel eat plenty of government issued crap this too is an art hey don't tear yourself apart over this you've got a heart too only it's made of condoms and marzipan and she likes to liquefy herself in a nice warm bath where she drains to the trains through to waste dispersal and disposal to the sea on a pebbles one path to an underwater city of corpses smiling and dancing and riding small horses that at closer examination turn out to be evil but not by their nature they're just hungry for cock too load and lock and load the albertan plain on the same train ship it out to second century b.c.e compress it to a bullet and shoot a pretty girl with it in the mouth causing instant death and rebirth in from the skin as she learns to seep through herself like the sweat of sex she evaporates into the atmosphere into dimension x and then rains down on everyone rains on the trains and the pains in the brothels rains on the women and she males on night mares and night white horses and then she softly says is this what you wanted is this why you taunted me for so long pretended je ne sais quoi ran out on me ran out of time ran into the field and moments before the end of the world shouted your love and I look sadly into her kind eyes and say yes yes yes