100% More Free
If you ever want to "check in" with the creature that lurks below the surface of your superego then free-write for a while. For some reason whenever I free-write or do word association my mind gravitates to what pleases me phonetically--I like ryhmes and alliteration especially. Here is a random free-write I did a while ago.
nvie dnv eh do not take me to the ball game I will certainly be upset. Corrotted arteries derive milk from the best of all of us so that means that we spit we spit and cop all over the black and white kitchen floor with no time to explore who we are who we dare who dares wins and the pattern begins begin to be interesting as the sting of allergies in the spring a wonderous melodic thing, a wonderous melodic thing. Ask me ask me no lies and I will tell you no truths sincerely aloof and beyond his reproof the man under the tin roof with no boots comes into Sunday school comes into rule. A child a child a child is born the thorn continues togrow on the inside and we all know what that means tas the red spills onto the whitel white carpet and and is absorbed we are never absorbed into our environment if I free write if I free associate I can definitoley free my mind gfrom definition the answer is most certainly was already their yunder the skin and hair laid bear. A skull grin the twins take the brain with the baby and maybe my surprise will be a shocker a shock marylin manson rocker even though I do it in every other scene pull a gun on you and say I love you and in my dreams I sleep.
PS If you want to be a superego stuntperson, please freewrite for a spell as a comment. Or if you want, give me your psychoanalysis of my ramblings.
PPS When you free-write don't stop writing until it is over.
posted by Will at 11:23 PM
6 Comments:
will, i don't know about free-writing, but i was definatly free-beat-boxing while reading that. in my hat starin at my cat while she lays on the floor like a bore boring thing i wish i could sing but i can't cannot can cannot can whatever
numa, numa, supernova. Crying outloud. Crying inside. Crying downtown. Hungry. Donuts. HOles. Potholes. Cars. minivans. I hate minivans. Blue and green. With soccer moms and teens. Too many. Too few. Too new. Too old. Too shy, too bold. Whatever. Too, too, too, tooooooo. Get over it. I don't give a shit. Just sit down and chill. Vibe. Reach in side. Investigate. Interogate. Deliniate. And leave.
(Hey, that was fun. When all you do is write for a reason, like me writing for my book, you forget how fun just writing is. Thanks Will. You're cool.)
You guys are totally superego stuntpeople. Thanks a ton for freewriting. Another way of free-writing that I am still expirementing with is what Keith Johnstone calls automatic writing. That is where you look at a blank sheet of paper and wait till you see a word, then you write it where you saw it.
You should be a rapper.
Will the rapper
he's a tapper
not gone forever
till next september
don't forget hisface
replace the case with mace
I can't even hear the bass
Will, you have reminded and restored something in me. Thank you.
I want to cry. Tears roll as mind strolls through thoughts and chest shots pound my pshyche into multi faceted blank universes, into the sun, bout as good as it is for me on the run from feelings try to see but blind. Always try to catch something to see, but blind.
Serously, thanks Will.
Much love Casey.
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