Blind Writing

[wyrdsister]

This looks entertaining. I'll give it a go.

Spoiler

In the sense where I don't know where this is going to go, I start by saying as such. Violins in one ear and nothing in the other, for there is nothing I can hear it with in that way. Headphones broken to clarify, and that tears the mystery apart. It is in this non-stop flow of words that I realise just how fast I type, and the tapping is quite loud... No wonder my brothers are so frustrated at my late-night chatting. But what can you do? Once a night owl, always a night owl. Today I find myself fortunately light hearted, but who knows where this will go, now I've got started. Saw my uncle's grown a beard when we went out last night. With a face red through too-spicy food, this makes for a funny sight. My aunt insists she must diet as she packs away pakoras, but that dress looks wonderful, so I wonder why? Brother once again arrogant and unfortunately remains so for the forseeable future. Yes, we've seen your alkaline burn. But it's on your ear, less than two millimetre circumference, so excuse me if I don't faint in horror. The slow swing of the coffee cup pendulum on the wall is mermerising to watch. Tick tock, tick tock. I find it soothing yet the alarm clock drives me mad. Is that an irony? I'm never much good with working out ironies. Don't even like coffee, although the smell is quite nice. A bit like tomatoes. This place is a mess, with boxes and shoes and bags, that sit here waiting, urging me to tidy them away. But I can't - instead they remain where they are, annoying me, until their allotted time to be moved. Five days to go, or four? Sometimes I forget what day it is, it's been so long, and whether or not my skills will have faed. I suppose there's only one way to find out. Fear isn't here any more, which is a surprise, as anticipation and anxiety go hand-in-hand for me and are the combination I despise the most. Everything's just numb, because I'm playing a waiting game, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Even if I wanted to. I'm grinning, heaven knows why for I hate this song. Why did I even download it? Sometimes I can't fathom myself, but what person can. All I know is that I love rhetorics and this gets easier the longer I do it. I didn't even know I could type this fast, most of the time I stop to think so often that the hours while away and as dawn comes my eyes are heavy and I've written nothing at all. Frustrating. Mustn't stop to read back although I'm dreadfullu curious, what tangents have I spirtalled off into? Can't quite remember what I've put. A little disconcering if not surprising,my short term memory is abysmal after all. There's been so many little places where I could have stopped, but this is quite cathartic, and I'm on a roll so why stop? Have leared spoiler tags so it's not like I'll clog up the board, and long insane ramblings are the name of this thread so I'll talk and just keep going until I run out of steam. But there's something about backing up files as someone walks into the door and as though I were tempting fate earlier I'm interrupted an the flow is broken. Thanks, guys.

Wow. Did I actually start to rhyme at one point...? Strange.

 

[Rolling Thunder]

Spoiler

Blasted thing won?t fucking work. Frustration. More frustration. Gah. Gah gah and endless gah. Meh. So much worry that I think it?s going to have to dance like a bastard Russian bear in a bastard ballroom. Ha. Inelegant, no? No, I?ll disagree there, it?s elegant, you just don?t like it. Well, who would, damnation starting up at you like ten thousand hungry maws, their darkness winking back from wherever it comes from. Back, back to whatever damnation in store for me should this fail. Hell, I?ll not accept it. Accept it I?ll not. Blood, bloody, incarnadine, I?ll fight it and cut it to the ground if I must - and I must. I?ll fight it with ink and blood like I?m fighting it now, cooling off my head. So many things coming at me, it?s like those action movies where you?ve got a hero surrounded by ten thousand leering, faceless villains. But I?m no hero dammit, I?ve no vorpal sword and these villains sure as hell don?t have slithy toes, but I?ll not recall that. Blood. Blood, bloody, blood and thunder, blood on my mind and blood on my hands, guiltless, thoughtless, perfect blood, singing violence in my veins. Lord above I wish it would be that, wish it could be that, wish it were blood and thunder and that these enemies would come forth and face me, that I could vent my rage on them, smash them, burn them, crush them, lay into them with whatever might and savagery I had to muster and let the best man win and all others fall, bloody, in the dust and soot and filth of creation. Ha. A poet longing for a war to lament, or lionise, or sing praises of, I?ve no doubt. Pathetic. A few rounds ?round the rugby pitch, some fistfights and videogames and suddenly you?re a warrior? Of course. We?re all warriors born, but cowards stole our swords in the night and chained us to these desks, to these houses, these dusty grey relicts that they called ?civility?. We?re noble, brilliant savages us all, shackled by mediocrity. Oh, here it is, the hero lamenting his genius lost? How very John Galt. Fuck John Galt. Fuck his spectre and the nightmare that it is haunting me, I?ll not let myself succumb into those sweet, honeyed lies, how soft and wondrous-sounding bullshit. Yes, we?d all like to dream we?re heroes, that we would thrive on our wits alone. Bah. The world is shit and all we can do is change that, for ourselves or for mankind, either?s good for me.

Again, edited for spelling and that's it.


@wyrdsister, I'd say your writing suggests family and siblings are the biggest issue to you, and, in general, minor things.