Stream Of Conscious Forum Stream

Let's start by having a 10 minute writing about nothing imparticular, you know, whatever you want. Just start typing and you're golden.

I'm tired and need a cigarette. i havn't written anything in days =/. but hey, the colts are going to the super bowl ;). i finished watership down by richard adams today, it was a very good book. i kind of want a bunny now... a bunny like hazel.. if anyone has read the book you'd understand. and yeah.. that's about it =)

My pen name is J. Ackson Jr. but you can call me by my real name, Derek.

My friend Aaron said the Indiana Colts won, he just went to Indiana for vacation, spending some time with his uncle. I don't have any knowledge of Football or any other sport, ha ha, though use to be a runner. ::tongue::



---Mishel

here i am again
back with my nose on this grind stone
typing away which ever next word comes to mind
a long weekend
i remember feeling very lost
because i had been trying to write music
and fall into myself with each note of melody
and each string strummed
and sometimes i would
i would fall right into myself
i'd be home
whether i was sitting on the bench
sitting up on my bed
bent over at the waist
so my head wouldn't push through the ceiling
or lying with my bakc on my floor
that is stained now with
vomit from last semester
spilled beer and whiskey
and smoke caught in the fibers
i'd be home
but then
other times
i'd find myself looking for "home"
i would be trying to fall into myself
instead of just falling into myself
and in that limbo
i'd be lost
and the more i tried
the more i failed
the more frusterating this had become
and that is when i turn to finding things that need to change
i read in another blog today a brief blurb about needs
adn that it is import to accept your needs
but i say who needs that
for as long as i can possibly remember
i have been trying to get rid of all my needs
if i see one,
i picture it as a weakness to myself
and that need, whatever it is, needs to be forgotten about or left behind
not indugled in
but this leads to self hatred
this leads to self mockery
this leads to underconfidence and incopmemtence
this kills your natural born animal
okay, so
for so long this lost feelinng has been here
and confusion sets in
you know
that cloud that comes down from the top off your mind
and then covers your eyes
and screams in your ears
adn right at that point
your two biggest senses are gone
can't see
can't hear
adn you're left with feeling
tasting
smelling
and unfortunatly for me
i have these senses under developed and can not find my way out of this
(i forgot what this means)
oh
that is my confusion
taht is how it feels
can't see
can't hear
and then i can't understand
and i can feel my brian working overtime
to aknowledge something
and make sense of it
this has been my feeling for so long a time
then tonight
i sat down at my computer
and said to myself
"here i am"
then the clouds lifted
i heard sydney bechet's jazz playing through my doughnut speaker
which needs to be cleaned cuz one day i spilled a little coffee on the desk
and now it's sitting in a stain
i heard doors in the hallway open and shut
as people moved in and out
and i heard my own breath going
down into my belly and out through my nose
i heard all these things at the same time
and gained back my orientation
adn then i opened my eyes
and looked at my computer
silver powerbook g4
machintosh apples
tastey and delightful
with cords running off the side of my desk
leading the electricity and flying spinning atoms
down into and up from
the electrical outlet behind my wooden desk
i saw a paper bag
given to me from my nana
that was once filled with christmas cookies
but now is wrinkled and a bit torn
and filled with cigarrette butts
and cans of beer that i crushed with my foot or hand and tossed away
i saw clutter scattered all across my desk
including but not limited to
empty bottles
a cigarrette box
blue highlighter
lighter
wallet
note pad (which i have been keeping in my back pocket with my wallet at all times incase i have an urge to write)
beverly hills ninja dvd
a dirty bowl from before winter break of december 16th that is crusted with spaghettios
a guitar humidifyer
loose change
dirt
grime
grease
blood
tears
and cookie crumbs
i saw all these things again
starting with "here i am"
i say this is zen
i zoned in
realized
i am here on a poorly crafted chair that came free with my overly priced dorm room
pulled under my desk
waiting for life to happen
when
f**k that all
i see it as it is right now
and keep moving forward
i wonder how my guitar will sound in five minutes when i go and play
i bet i will love each note
simply because it exists
and if you're wondering
no i'm not on drugs
no i'm not drunk
not an alcoholic
and haven't drinkin' a drink in 15 hours
and haven't self medicated in a week in a half
i am simply here
typing each word as it comes to me
and that is enough for me for as long as i continue my journey
i like my animal
i think anyone who doesn't
has looked closly enough
i think my animal would like you too
it was a dragon
but today
it feels more like a lion
with big paws and a deep roar
and also king of where it roams
out of control yet
so very understanding of what life is really about
here i am

"NO RULE," is what I saw him say.

But he could have been a she and she..
She could have been absolutely everything.
She could have been the world; my world.
She could have been thoughts protruding from the curvatures of my beaten skull.
She could have been the anaesthesia,

The only thing I ever need.

Insanity is the game here, now, they suppose.
Wordless nothingness. Or nothing dropped into words.
Typing, looking, moving.
then TO CLOSE YOUR EYES.

So you won'thave to remember that you don't make sense anymore.
The critiques brought you to your knees,
And the failure whipped you
Into utter, indescribable submission.

A hundred lashes for a single shred of truth, my dear.
A thousand more, if you promise to cry even one
jUsT 1! Honest-to-god tear.

So let me know if I got this right, okay?
Drop me a line, and tell me..
Speak to me of forever.
Speak to me of hope.
Because I left my rose-colored glasses somewhere,
And I need you to lend me yours, if that's--
If it's--
If.

Lonely Heart
Wasted Life

Remember who
you were meant
to be?

Potential is
a curse

A constant
reminder
of who
you will
never be.

Ever wonder
what normal
feels like?

I do.
[img]

try to grab the stream

Morning, white snow and no school today. The Coffee is hot but somehow it doesn't taste as good this morning. Sitting down to see what's on my plate for the day. Oh yes, the things to do. I'm still looking for a job. This three month vacation is starting to worry me. That, along with my procrastination and not taking advantage of the time. I fear it will be like this always. When the time comes, I'll look back and clearly see what I have squandered and wasted.

So, I should get this load of records on to Ebay, but I've got this new Orson Scott Card novel I just can't put down. I should be doing a lesson, learning Java 2, but I can't help but get myspaced and emailed. If I could just find a job surfing the web, or reading books, or writing the next great American novel.

My undisciplined ADD mind can't even keep still for this ten minute write. I feel it a burden just to get to page three, where all of the good stuff will finally flow out of this stream. I missed my morning commutes where I was captured for forty-five minutes, forced to write...imposed discipline.

But now the block rears it's head, keeping me from pulling the words from my store, and placing them strategically on this page. Oh, this write ends up being fodder for a balled up piece of paper that I'd rip from my typewriter and toss into the corner. It will end up being one of those kinds of pieces that I read, where all of the words "sound" intelligent...the poetry "looks" like it's smart and deft. But when I read it I get nothing but boredom. Nothing grabs my mind. It ends up being like small talk conversation that gets forgotten the moment it is finished.

Good morning.