From notebooks

I've been going through notebooks preparing for the Extended Pizza Network Notebook Challenge and because I just returned from a month or so away and I have a bit of distance from the creative efforts found therein and can see more clearly.

My production of nonsense is not limited to the destruction-of-sense-by-mechanical-process type. I also am capable of writing for hours and hours in a certain nonsense-producing mode, a familiar mindset. I don't think I am writing good poetry, but these writings always seem to come closer to what I would like to say than when I sit down and try to explain what it is I have to say in a traditional essay format (I can be a writer of very boring and simplistic essays). The trouble with these texts is that they are full of repetition that I find unsatisfying, and there are a very few nuggets thrown in with the chaff (and yes, mixed metaphors as well). Because the phrases that satisfy me are tied in with the ones that get me down I can't seem to extricate them. One option would be to learn to write differently, and I am trying to do so, but in order to write this way at all I have to give up all control and write whatever comes to my head as fast as possible - the whole methodology is taken from Ginsburg and is similar to the mode of so-called "automatic drawing" in which I produce a lot of my work. The other option is to edit out the junk, but this is a hugely creative process with a lot of cheating and rewriting and tie-togethers, and I usually find it kills the writing. Perhaps I am just not good at this yet (editing is an art), but I have a feeling it is just not the right way to do things for me. The last option, and the most interesting to me, is to use some sort of mechanical or human social network based method of editing the texts so that they change according to a process involving people's preferences and innaccuracies. But I don't yet know how to structure this. I want it to be less of a conscious effort than Wikipedia (and of course, smaller-scale 'cause I would never be able to interest more than a handful of interested people).

Anyway, I am going to copy out a typical text from a notebook, unedited. So please feel free to skim. And by the way, I'm not going to stop burdening my readers with this kind of trash unless I receive some kind of negative feedback - that's how mindless I really am. Yay!

[*This seemed "pointed writing" - risky talk?]

Whoever goes past anyone's tiny scrawls - this shawl.
Forget the other big-boy's notebooks.
Stripey-sweater monkeys in tree houses with switches
Fruit-loop tree forest
Dive in a creepy cardboard-cut silloehette to save face
Dodge the flying shit like a sky black with arrows.
A world of fun, half-a-life away
Truely yodelling in synch, eyes locked
We form a chrystal-shaped power blue-white lazer light array
All the vines are plastic-lined and oh so green as green.
Hear a bell in the wall? That's the future notebook.
We called them ghostesses 'til they wised up,
(We are the futuristic gods, that's all.)
Look like buildings much better now, shaped like blenders and blogs.
It's a sappy ending, the audience inwardly groans.
The fleabag in the corner, pastey-faced, cutting the shit cards
Who could love such a moonface?
Scorched earth, we are impossible to pray for anymore.
We've lost the last lesson and that's why all our singers sound so sad.
How long a chain can we let out, and how fast can we run away?
Songwriters will bang the bars 'til they spark.
A drive-in screen of thousand kilowatt cells.
People get to be so lazy driven by chaos,
But the world is so uncomplicated when we watch things fly apart.
Weight was the thing shoulders were designed for - we don't have wings.
Our bodies are pendulum spools.
This seems clear enough - binary sprockets.
I get everything I want - like a monkey in a pit of it's own shit.
Terrified by the awful rumbling train, delighted by starbursts and melon rinds.
It's impossible to pay attention to such nonsense! I really connect with you.
I know - let's go wriggle out red muscles together, that will be a tv moment.
"If you can't handle the dust, get out of the bowl."
Now this imaginary audience, it was always laughing, it was always stroking its chin.
Hello my secret flip-flopping heart, I know you know about my life.
Is there anything in this cabin except for tinker-toys?
The one that almost got away, my secret scientific sleuth.
Zippy tv color details zap in and out of the blurry focus.
Depth is an illusion, lots of details make the whole.
There's no glow-line guy for real, though he looks soooo good.
Cut-uppers and travellers, we live in the slump of the ages.
You are paying to maintain the most complicated social illusion
when you walk into a gallery and buy some monkeyshit.
If only we could freeze the details here
and press them into the shifting set permenantly,
then we could be still in our contemporary cave.
Scratch in the mud, do bad magic, and cruel up the earth.
A waveform of conscious complication arisen on the surface of the dustballs.
Onward and upward, we march into the future, they cried...
But out in the night time, the wind blew cruel, saying, "It's natural...
Your toys have grown more complicated, but have you ever wrestled with a waterfall?"
And think about it; how's your skeleton doing right now?
Feeling ready to shiver? To some, our greatest are bugs.
To some, our magic universe. To some, our waving uniform.
Tiny little signals lead your eye on 'til it forgets the detail.
How can we see again, dear shoppers? Rumble! Roar!
Our complicated tube? Our favorite talisman?
When we are shards in the alien hand, will we look advanced?
Shut down that ringing sound, we are a nation at war.
The bloody-faced demigods roughing up the good simple children.
Cutting up our own bodies, a metal-plated mammal.
The rulers of the earth could not stop its own destruction.
If only I could come close to stopping my own mini-model.
Truely, your earthen mounds are iced real nice, topped by fire
All the great inventions were made by forgotten heros.
The man who discovered fire was named Wilma -
Oh how she did rub those sticks!