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  • Tom

A Stream of Consciousness

Well it seems appropriate that I write this in a sort of stream of consciousness, bwarts and all stylee because that was our task this week and I think I quite enjoyed it although I’m not entirely sure the outcome was quite as good as it might have been if we’d actually stopped for a momne tot think about what we werer saying. I think the exercise is ggo dfor me though as someone who agonises over ever word – this might be the way forward – mayb 10 minutes of free writing everyday could just free up the angry little editor in me who is always desperate to go back to look back and stop and say noooo Jon that’s not really the point. Not quite good enough, Maybe that’s all it would take to silence the demons. I dopnt know. I suppose no one really does. OK I’m going off the point here – I think that can happen easily in this mode. Anyway – this week the task =was to FREEEE-WRITE. NO DELETING – No EDITING – NO GOING BACK ancd looking at what you’ve done just charging forward like those Light Brigade Fellas – except with not quite as much death involved.

These here pictures are our prompts, and our writings (Dave haad the house – I had the weird icy robot camera thing and Big ole Tommy had the sweet little wiffle-haired birdy).

Frozen in time and frozen ice eyes

Watch the landscape’s wide slippery vastness

Eyes dead from vision. A dead eyed view of everything.


But never seeing.

Not you at least. Sitting there hoping that someone

Or something will step into frame and cause your

Slow crisp lids to wink once.

Smoke stained digit rubbing once

But the screen remains black.

Snow is all

You browse the powered sky

A flicker in the corner

A dead light pounding your retina


Like the opening mouths, clutching the air to feed, we choose whether we share – whether we survive – whether we give, take, steal, succeed or die. Before first flight, while our world is still the warm weave of the nest, all that matters is the half chewed, regurgitated food from those that look after us. We fight for our share thinking that is all there ever will be, until one day it’s time to step over the edge. All of a sudden the world rolls out in front of us, like a rich carpet of undiscovered joy, pain, adventure and stories yet to be written. The law of the nest means nothing. Those that rose to the top, what do they have to show for it? They still must jump and trust their wings. And not all will fly. Some will flounder, flap and fall… stooping low and maybe stretching out their young wings as far as they can reach, in the hope that the air fills beneath and life lives on.

OK that’s probably enough. Not quite Allen Ginsberg this is it? Listen – if you fancy a go, we’d love to see what you come up with – it’ quite a cathartic experience. Don’t cheat though! Noo No no… OK… that’s all… I’m off to write something less freestyle… you know… something I can really worry about. Yeah. Nice.


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