..smelling of the sea
Someone suggested that I just write whatever came to mind, you know, a stream of consciousness thing, in order to get all the crap out of my head. Maybe loosen up the writing muscles. So I did. I really didn't expect 4 pages of crap in 11pt font, but there you go. I seem to have a lot in my brain... surprise, surprise.
After that I went for a walk to the beach. Lovely, lovely beach with the sun on the water, the smell of salt in my nose - gods it felt good. I lay down on one of the beached logs, closed my eyes and just listened for a while. The rush and hiss of the waves sucking at rocks, shaping the ridges of sand and tossing seaweed and flotsam up across the tide line. Endless. Relentless. Persistent. What stone can withstand water?
I'm slightly sunburned now, but I feel better. On my way back I happened on a garage sale where they were selling books for 25 cents. A dollar seventy-five later and I have the collected works of Allen Ginsberg 1947-1980, a medical dictionary of sorts, a selection of writings of Lucretius in hardcover, a copy of The Life of Pi by Yan Martel and three James Bond novels by the infamous Ian Fleming. They are 2-4 in the series but I could not resist, having seen all the movies repeatedly. Not bad for less than 2 dollars, I don't think. I'm most excited about the Ginsberg since I've wanted a copy of the entirety of 'Howl' for some time that wasn't e-text. And here it is - among all sorts of other gems the man produced, as crass as some of them are. Crass, I say that like it's a bad thing. The man was breaking the rules of poetry and I can't help admiring him for that.
Now I just have to find a decent copy of e.e. cummings and William Blake, among others.
Going to attempt some more writing perhaps... unless the phone rings again. *argh* I just wish I could remember where on earth I put the scribbles and notes for Dragonbreed. I suppose I had better ask St. Anthony for a hand, eh? He's a sight better than Murphy all right.
listening to: Wasteland - Synaesthesia
eating: tortilla chips
word count: 2958 (and some of it is fiction!)
word of the day: catharsis
reading: Flesh and Spirit - Carol Berg (almost done!)
feeling: sluggish
headspace: the eagle nebula
After that I went for a walk to the beach. Lovely, lovely beach with the sun on the water, the smell of salt in my nose - gods it felt good. I lay down on one of the beached logs, closed my eyes and just listened for a while. The rush and hiss of the waves sucking at rocks, shaping the ridges of sand and tossing seaweed and flotsam up across the tide line. Endless. Relentless. Persistent. What stone can withstand water?
I'm slightly sunburned now, but I feel better. On my way back I happened on a garage sale where they were selling books for 25 cents. A dollar seventy-five later and I have the collected works of Allen Ginsberg 1947-1980, a medical dictionary of sorts, a selection of writings of Lucretius in hardcover, a copy of The Life of Pi by Yan Martel and three James Bond novels by the infamous Ian Fleming. They are 2-4 in the series but I could not resist, having seen all the movies repeatedly. Not bad for less than 2 dollars, I don't think. I'm most excited about the Ginsberg since I've wanted a copy of the entirety of 'Howl' for some time that wasn't e-text. And here it is - among all sorts of other gems the man produced, as crass as some of them are. Crass, I say that like it's a bad thing. The man was breaking the rules of poetry and I can't help admiring him for that.
Now I just have to find a decent copy of e.e. cummings and William Blake, among others.
Going to attempt some more writing perhaps... unless the phone rings again. *argh* I just wish I could remember where on earth I put the scribbles and notes for Dragonbreed. I suppose I had better ask St. Anthony for a hand, eh? He's a sight better than Murphy all right.
listening to: Wasteland - Synaesthesia
eating: tortilla chips
word count: 2958 (and some of it is fiction!)
word of the day: catharsis
reading: Flesh and Spirit - Carol Berg (almost done!)
feeling: sluggish
headspace: the eagle nebula
Labels: books, scribbling madly, somewhere in the ether
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