Greetings all and let's say a big thank you to Anna, Marion, Shilpa, Sarah and Andrea for your gratitude and likes, comments, posts and shares for my previous post. Much love and kudos to each of you and keep on sharing, it's much appreciated.
As some of you may know I enjoy going a bit wild with writing at times with a stream of consciousness technique I sometimes use. It's more a tool for waking up the muse to see if he will drop by and lend his assistance, if not it transpires to be just a morass of jumbled thoughts going nowhere having the reader think where does this all come from.
OK, I have the semblance of some sort of beginning, so let's just go with it then. I'm also using this music to help me go off somewhere weird and wonderful... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4SXjfVeGEQ
Let us dart to the tunnel, oh, darn, traffic is whaling back and man oh man what will they be thinking. Ah, just some random dot dot gossip about munching doughnuts and typing on eyeballs. Have you ever put keys on your irises, can't say as I have but it does make you wonder what lies beyond those doors to the soul. The soul, hmm, I think I shall lose this in the great maw inviting us in to cross to the other side of the river.
I'm very much a south sider. When I go to the north, different territory and they look at you like you're some kind of alien. Hey, I'm from London you bunch of Eastend lowlife, oh perhaps I'm a scallywag from Southwark. Well actually, Peckham originally until they let me out for offish behaviour and then Bermond On Sea waited. It's not actually a seaside resort but doesn't it sound kind of unique. Oh bard, stop waffling, all you need to do is cross the river.
The refulgent glimmer of those fluorescents dance in symmetrical dissonance. As each one passes I nod my head like a Churchillian chihuahua overdosing on lemon bon bons. Bon bons takes me back to those halcyon days back on the Manor and the glories of the shop of sweets by the road of melons. They were nice but moon dust, ah, the way it sparkled in flaky incandescent spots of nuclear fusion in the oesophagus were quite the delight. The man in the moon tripped out on the package I believe in his own fuchsia dance steps.
I wonder if I'm half way through this infernal tunnel. I'm stuck behind a rover and the stench of diesel smothers me like a hamstrung mugger with arms of smacked treacle. Hey, writhe on someone else you perfunctory gloomsnake I snarl. Of course, no response, just a mere shrug of his chassis as he continues to puncture my lungs with his infandous mix of slow decline and asthmatic purity.
Perfunctory snickered into my thoughts. I will admit I'm not quite sure of the meaning, hey good google come hither I need you for the merest of snackerjacks. Ah, lacking interest and yes I guess that rover couldn't care could he or perhaps it's she. Come on, don't just assume you lazy writer, it could well be a lady you know or for that matter maybe it's an alien or a robot. Hell, the day's coming you know when all of us will be obsolete and just be a mix of wires and flesh. Cyborg days beckon.
Oh wow, daylight from the other side. The northerners will eye us southerners will disdain and suspicion. Oi, you lot, get back to your side, we don't need you over here do we? It's a bit mad though how all these boundaries go up when you think about it. I always thought that one day we might just all hobnob together in one happy union. Remember the fall of the wall and how everyone cheered a whole new world. Well, hold on, not happening. Get back in the box you naughty replicants of ill worth. Obey, battle and fold on down into the zipstream. Yes, that will do it. Oh, look signs for Aldgate one way and Canning Town the other. Which way shall I go?
Does it matter? I guess not really but today I shall go left. Left to the tower and the environs beyond. Aldgate, a right old mish mash of confusion when you drive through there. Foot down, head on, I'm on track and on road and in the realm of scattered thoughts and memoirs.
Ok, stop there and let's look back above. Well, it's a jumbled stream as I expected but it did give a couple of nice little phrases. I can certainly use perfunctory gloomsnake in a tale or a poem and quite like snackerjacks and zipstream. The rest of it was what I expected a babbling brook of oddness. The great thing with this style of writing it can rouse the muse to arms and then he is at his strongest to help you roll out reams of writing that might just leap out of the mundane.
So a bit of a strange one today but let's embrace it. Let the creative well flow wildly and wonderfully. On that note, I bid you sweet adieu and remember keep reading.
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