Stream Of Conciousness
Well, this is quite the experiment. Iím writing blind here, literally blind. Eyes closed Iím relying only on mu drndr og youvh snf yhr dounf yo huifr mr.
Music is a rhythm, a flow, something that we can follow and be inspired by. Thatís what Iím allowing to lead me now. Iím simple alloinw myself to sit here,eyes closed ed and completely in sync with the msuci playing. Heck, I have no ideda how many spelling mistakes Iím making. Likely hundres. But the fact remains that I cannot see what Iím writing and will not see until tomorrow.
And thatís beautiful, isnít it?
Trying something new, just for the heck of it!
In fact I was trying to sleep before this massive surge of inspiration overcame me: So now here I am, at somewhere near 3:000 in the morning sitting on my computer and typing blindówhy? Because I can. Because the world allows me to. Because this is what I choose to do.
Choose, not decide. To actually choose is to hdo it with no reason why. And thatís why Iím doing this. Because I choose to, because I just wanted to do it. And itís interesting.
Seriously, the senstations one feels typing blind is incredible.
My blody actually sfells like its changing shape.
But the music stopped now. My guiding force has gone silent and so the moment of inspiration has passed. In fact I already feel the heavy coat of sleep settling over my shoulders, running up and ffown my neck. I can feel the bbuttons seeming to grow smaller and smaller anas my hands grow larger and large, inflating with the gross movements of a tired body.
Itís a strange feeling, in my minds eye I can seee all sorts of things, but then I feel them. My body senses them as though they were true. Now my fingers are inflated and swollen like some sort of strange sausisage, now the keyboard is curved and spherical. Now Iím skinny as a twig with long spindly fingers that can dance over the mite sized keyboard with ease.
I think Iím donw now. The keys have grown large and small, my fingers have shrunk and grown, and my minds eye has swollen and felcated. Everythingís run its natural course and so too is my stream of conciousness coming to an end.
Perhaps Iíll edit this tomorrow. Perhaps not.
My love find you and carry you forward.