Stream Of Conciousness
Well, this is quite the experiment. I’m writing blind here, literally blind. Eyes closed I’m 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. That’s what I’m allowing to lead me now. I’m 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 I’m making. Likely hundres. But the fact remains that I cannot see what I’m writing and will not see until tomorrow.
And that’s beautiful, isn’t 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 blind—why? 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 that’s why I’m doing this. Because I choose to, because I just wanted to do it. And it’s 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.
It’s 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 I’m skinny as a twig with long spindly fingers that can dance over the mite sized keyboard with ease.
I think I’m donw now. The keys have grown large and small, my fingers have shrunk and grown, and my minds eye has swollen and felcated. Everything’s run its natural course and so too is my stream of conciousness coming to an end.
Perhaps I’ll edit this tomorrow. Perhaps not.
My love find you and carry you forward.