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Straight from my mind onto my phone onto this page.

August 22, 2011

Do you want thoughts, spilling straight from the mind into non-sensical words on a page? Well this is what this is.

A collection that lacks structure, order or sense, of my thoughts as and when they come onto the memo pad on my phone or saved in a growing draft message from the last few months…..complete with wrong, rushed grammar and spelling….

What is this thing in the early 20’s that says we have to decide now what the rest of you life is going to be, you’ve had enough experience you wiser enough to decide- no I’m not actually. Who can really know what their best at where will i flourish and enjoy i just don’t know. This bothered me but now I think the people who have had most jobs have experienced so much more and lived so many different lives a thousand rather than one and is that better? surely if i want to be a writer the most experience the better.

I want to explore the limits and infinite of you

, Maturing taste of words, mindless reading will no longer do, spontaneous prose, writing-here is a piece of me world forever for you to see here is a trace of my inner sanctum for you to know and judge, the trails of thought now lines on the page,

why am i embarrassed to write in a notebook in public because writing is a private thing, to consider yourself and thought to carefully is seen as self-induglent and sappy.?

Think of me what you will- leave me behind from your life, it matters not to me because my words have captured your fleeting existence and cast you in verbs and adjectives onto a paper prison forever

i am maturing and knowing more how my writing should be. This is the way I am and why i think too much so that I can try to understand people like that and write the vigour I am going to write.

Sometimes I feel like saying to myself look at you with your Bukowski and Kerouac with your larger than large headphones so that you can hear all the sounds of people like Modest Mouse and Elliott Smith-their lyrical and musical greats you say but what do you know?-and your flowing skirt and jewelry from around the world- your so deep with those outward symbols of introspection or maybe your just pretentious

train snap shots that’s what you get of people.

I wrote with a blind fury, i had to get it out.

Have you ever argued with somebody who is too stupid to understand so it seems like their winning because you can’t be bothered explaining everything to them or maybe I’m the stupid one for thinking their stupid or for not explaining because i can’t and letting them live in ignorance.

I’m quite impressed with myself that I recycle lolly pop sticks and make them into bookmarks my obsession with ice is utilised by my obsession with books, that justifies them both then.

Yes yes there was once somebody that  .

why do we need all these things objects, everything that counts is inside us, the lilly in the field needs nothing more than it’s spot of soil in the field, animals need nothing but their fur coats so why do we humans think we need all this worthless stuff? because we can ‘think’ so we think we need it to satisfy whatever prestige, comfort, status, laziness those objects represent, maybe it would be better if we just didn’t think.

She’d never quite acquainted to anything

Look at you strutting around like toad from toad hall lott ticket

Tiger Tiger Frangoso

Ask Merty about death cab date of run

Are you bust existing or living?

Pass for less

Six pence none the richer kiss me, sea of love

The trangression of gender roles in the tudor court. Thought experiment what would someone’s life be like  if they lived in a dark, windowless room which they never left and no-one ever entered, they are taught to read via video, and then do nothing but read every second they are awake, would they know more than the normal person and be happier?Is an imagined reality better than a real one?

Bus 42 dogs beetle museum

Buffoned brown hair flicked and flecked.                    She
thinks she’s something but maybe really she knows she’s nothing, nothing now but the way she looks.
Spider legs of black cling and ring her eye.
Her eye heaves and they dangle reaching for the sky.
Skin glazed a roast chicken brown, fake-burnt around the edges.
Beads and bangles marooned on her arm like shimmering, flashing orbits.
Adorned with gold and beads  which jangle with promise of exotic delight.
Eyes… her
eyes roam the aisle for a passer by’s attention
                                       what does she
really look like 


Rambling thoughts of a lunatic, or inspired ideas, seeds of something that could grow into something else? ….yeah pretty much rambling thoughts of a lunatic.

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