So, I just went and read some old offline journals, and they're yummy. And I realized how much I try to put things together into coherent essays / poems / whatever when I have an audience. And it's not really my style. I like to just flow, as you call it. I'm used to talking to one person at a time, mostly just myself. ;) So, I think I'll do more of that.
I have a feeling most of my friends would rather read me unfiltered, even though little of it makes any sense. But (maybe) I'll try filtering for a bit.
Ah.. the possibilities! Brightly, outpours, wait,
Mm.. so many shadows, sinking
There's only one rule of the paper-ink journal: never erase.
A journal that goes backwards, a life that does not.
Stream of fireflies, green trident, no, not that, the other one,
red leather, must be real, softened two years or more
to the skin that carries it. "patience is the scar"
symbols in wallpaper, flowery cock, clown, cockatrice,
serpent and hummingbird, spider, more, of course.
not the most elegant words,
nor a timely subject,
just some raw, stumbling
juice from fruit bloody
pained, but true.
filter me thousands,
well that's what coffee is,
just a few thoughts
from a whole lot of beans.
Tired of that subject? Yeah. I really should be sleeping. I'm such a dork. I love getting rid of things I don't need.
1984 goes on quite a bit about the shame Winston feels for his body. And he fully observes that nearly everyone else is ugly, too. His health improves a bit as his mood does, of course, and it's implied that everyone is in poor health because they are miserable. Or not, really. He keeps trying to answer the question: were people happier now than they were then? As if "standard of living" could be applied to emotion and measured over generations. A figure, some figures... only make sense when normalized. Sometimes the scale defines the data, more often the data defines the scale.
I also came across http://www.huxley.net
yesterday. Fascinating page. Could write a long entry on this. I would say I disagree with the tone from the start. Tragically, yes. The page sometimes proceeds as a angry criticism where it could be a thankful extension. And the paper presents a viewpoint as extreme without the comfort of a context in which to question it. It's not balanced. But it is interesting. (It should not have been google's first search result.)
Already this filtering thing is seeming stupid. I should just write more, all the time. Weird brain. Likes talking to self and you.
Heh. No more than a few sentences on any one subject. :)
lyrics running through my head. need new shoes.
and the worlds slip and melt, crucible spheres
whenever I lay down my head, the words
the spaces are just right, so interesting
because I can't quite say why.
the strangest love letter ever written.
Pluck, and store them feathers
in a treehouse sieve. Light
and heavy in an hourglass sleep.
And slip one to the other
with a kiss in glass, tick-tock
wisp'er another and always more
in synch or psych or sick tonight.
'ere a second sunrise numb white
back forth in the sand, swingside
tides the beach, quicker the
pendulum swings, come too,
come sleep, says the man.
Come sheep, lay your thoughts,
on the altar of my slowly