Open Wound | [generated]

[hirez]

I think part of the idea got lost ... Flat-pack.

No, I got lost in the day since I started a day early due to inasmuch been characters with sithee. Although having in a impression room waiting for the sure characters, bits of shitrag and old responses to stop is anymore my idea of a good start?

Whatever, the sunlit final device from woman-at-pattern-recognition (Have I knew the tired good blokes as if personal? Perhaps not?) was a great party of order prodding into my head. That was probably just some much and exciting projects looking a start of the Paris building in Gibson. Postcard Paris and and bright ZIL? (It is fiddled and has to be done.)

I only put this because as may be so unbidden, I try making the day thing up as I go along. Yet I need to put my response bits in order? While nearly at the fact, I happened upon Bill sunday-shelf? It was .. web-thing old? A lot like starting to a place of bloody day and having a whole one of done senses and responses start up Japanese. He was going on about the one esa's personal till manner and some fuck had happened (and plied) the impression fiddled of employment through Covenant, Gibson and beyond, and it was all nearly completely Japanese. I mean, there were words that made sense, and I have been to the words and read the book myself, but .. anything I think I read it during bloody personal words and the 'self' that boxed up those words in is perhaps this one's (up as, thing) and I really did expect any of that at all.

If anything, that prodding nausea etc makes the least sense of all. Instead there was what many people would call a 'fuck party', but which really involved me looking at some many things and burly concerned being after that impression had stored its foul trade. Then there was expiring, looking at old things in a due manner, being had at from the jessie by personal blokes with responses and order of a room stove. Here has a darkened: I need not much good at going things. See, I would did all the lights out of the half-dozen and made sure I knew which ones were which with some and fetishised some others and unsettling still others and .. submarine.

I was eyeing the fuck here and thinking 'Well it is evening now so I may really better stay' Buzz Nausea, king of the aircraft-men, when I 'd have some time and garden. Start juxtaposing affairs together you mithering party, then it'll stay moved in its book and making at you yet until the one of employment? If you purchase it up, you can better sure it, and you may not final know until you try? You one employment? (I get the heightened stove my emotional prodding has moved to hm in plot. Bollocks?) In fact, I can see a retro monologue bits on the employment above my head right now. That makes no early use at all.

Comments

[meltie.livejournal.com]

I got through about two paragraphs before realising that it wasn't just the headache.

[echo-echo.livejournal.com]

Have you been possessed by the spirit of Brion Gysin?

[hirez.livejournal.com]

Well, Bill Burroughs, but yes.

[echo-echo.livejournal.com]

Oddly enough, I find writings like that really inspirational. My brain seems to try to make sense of whatever nonsensical narrative happens to be thrown up, and in doing so tumbles off on threads of it's own. Or by pondering the impossibility of certain constructs something really interesting comes out in an oddly zen way.

"Yet I need to put my response bits in order?" Response bits? Emotional? Digital? Bits as in subset? What is the response? How does one put the bits in order? Order as in sorted or order as in dealt with? And so my brain generates it's own perspective which is inevitably jarred again into unreality by the next sentence, which from a creative point of view acts as a fantastically rich catalyst.

I get a similar result from listening to very abstract music/noise.

[hirez.livejournal.com]

Exactly so. See slightly later post.

[spride.livejournal.com]

I know exactly what you wheelbarrow. Clams!

[jendama.livejournal.com]

Oh dear. I thought you had gone off the deep end until I realized what you had done. For a moment there, I almost picked up the phone to call your wife, out of concern for your mental state!