I was bored one day and decided to sit down and write out the thoughts that came to my head, just like some other writers do, most prominently James Joyce.
Okay, side note. I realize that I talk about James Joyce a lot. I mean, the title of my blog is A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Woman. I'm not nearly as obsessed with Joyce as it may seem to you guys. I honestly have only ever read that one book by him. Granted it is one of my favorites, but I've only ever read it once. I mean, I tried reading Ulysses and Finnegan's Wake but could hardly get through the first chapter. And they were written in some form of stream of consciousness, so now I feel like a total hypocrite after writing this long paragraph. Oh boy. End side note.
What was I talking about? Oh yeah, that's right. Stream of consciousness.
It was fun to write. I think I might have to do it again some time.
Also, it kind of reminds me of the themes of Jack Kerouac a lot. I mean, besides mentioning the word beatnik, anyway. Maybe you've read On the Road? Enjoy my circular logic, as well. :)
Alright. Here it is. My mind spilled out on the internet page.
the dog wags its tag and makes a sound like a hound but that's what it is what it is all about and I doubt the sun won't shine on the day the earth twirls without an axis swirls and spins for no reason at all and just goes and goes and doesn't care and I don't care nothing really matters to me bohemian beatnik don't you love love and love and laughter ha ha ha shine the sun and moon goes down behind a cloud of torn up tissue paper achoo moo cow dairy milk soy joy ah aha ha bring up the jazz and dance and go go go go go so fun to go and dance and sing but not too loud because my voice ain't good like those in the hood down under in the shadows where the children can't play let their voices shine out from the dirt and the grime like sun shining through the cracks in a deck wooden deck stomp my feet watch the crumbs fall down down down to the ground underground there's no light but the void don't care bout light or dark or shadow or blindness deafness hiccupness openness open your eyes to the nothing don't close them to the everything not the same never think they're the same silly thing don't you know the meaning of the words he sang in the rain on the day of the plangity prangity plangprang hang up the phone dumbass it's the senator not the god not the old ball and chain and I'm ain't in chains maybe you don't mind being conned but I got the power got the power over you no not over but in between the lines I'm inclined to line up the mines and bomb bomb don't dumb bomb dombdilly bad sad mad no fad's good enough for me I got the power of the shower cleanse the dirt from your soul silly thing darling I got the down down pull of the gravity of the world universe void man dude got the reality pality smality smell skunk silly little thing got the world on the string mean ring ping pong ding dong got the got the got the got the power of the dog makes a sound like a hound