17 Steps for Tommorow and Tommorow.
The process of losing your mind is a selfish one.
This is not a lie. Just pretend to agree.
When mishaps are just missteps that seem to throw themselves in front of your disillusioned self, it would be rather impossible to pretend that you thought it was a lie.
When you try to focus on the whole picture and it seems to bleed its corners and fall into a crumpling heap that makes you wonder why and how and what and when it should be over--it proves to be nothing other than the truth.
When it should stop is another monster in itself.
So as I type I follow strict guidelines: 1) Do not look at the screen 2) Do not think in front of what you write 3) Do not write in necessarily long lines. 4) Indulge in music, surround yourself in an environment that enhances the mind 5) Submit nothing other than what is on the tip of your tongue 6) Do not blink unless completely necessary 7) If the feeling becomes too immense sit back and observe the blotted screen 8) Develop structures within rhythmic patterns, allow the notation to ebb and flow in polyphonically submitted structures 9) Show no sign of exhaustion 10) Breathe into what makes sense, while simultaneously ignoring the inaccuracies and figuring out the reciprocal modes of alleviation and epiphany 11) Lie if only necessary to provide concrete and evident points of subject or view 12) Never lie to yourself 13) Wash yourself, preferably with hot water 14) Laugh at your prissy mistake-- critical analysis is used for instances of self-defense or self obligation 15) close your eyes if the experience is enhanced in such a manner 16) Never leave it off, alone, or away; always press forward; never release; find yourself infatuated; never lose your head; always hope for the next big thing; remember to breathe; remember to float face up; remember to remember what you won't possibly ever remember tommorow 17) wait for tomorrow.
And when it comes, see if you feel like you should do it all over again.
This didn't come out right. What a mess I've made.
But I guess I meant for it to be that way.
This is not a lie. Just pretend to agree.
When mishaps are just missteps that seem to throw themselves in front of your disillusioned self, it would be rather impossible to pretend that you thought it was a lie.
When you try to focus on the whole picture and it seems to bleed its corners and fall into a crumpling heap that makes you wonder why and how and what and when it should be over--it proves to be nothing other than the truth.
When it should stop is another monster in itself.
So as I type I follow strict guidelines: 1) Do not look at the screen 2) Do not think in front of what you write 3) Do not write in necessarily long lines. 4) Indulge in music, surround yourself in an environment that enhances the mind 5) Submit nothing other than what is on the tip of your tongue 6) Do not blink unless completely necessary 7) If the feeling becomes too immense sit back and observe the blotted screen 8) Develop structures within rhythmic patterns, allow the notation to ebb and flow in polyphonically submitted structures 9) Show no sign of exhaustion 10) Breathe into what makes sense, while simultaneously ignoring the inaccuracies and figuring out the reciprocal modes of alleviation and epiphany 11) Lie if only necessary to provide concrete and evident points of subject or view 12) Never lie to yourself 13) Wash yourself, preferably with hot water 14) Laugh at your prissy mistake-- critical analysis is used for instances of self-defense or self obligation 15) close your eyes if the experience is enhanced in such a manner 16) Never leave it off, alone, or away; always press forward; never release; find yourself infatuated; never lose your head; always hope for the next big thing; remember to breathe; remember to float face up; remember to remember what you won't possibly ever remember tommorow 17) wait for tomorrow.
And when it comes, see if you feel like you should do it all over again.
This didn't come out right. What a mess I've made.
But I guess I meant for it to be that way.
posted by Henry at 10:47 PM
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