Free Writing :: Imagination Station

[origami_alligator]

This topic is now accepting poetry and free writings, as well as short stories.

"Free Writing":
in which you write for a set amount of time (I believe ours is about 5 minutes) and put down whatever comes to mind, without fear of form, punctuation or making sense.

A few tips:
- Do not think about what you will be writing next.
- Do not read the last line you have written.
- Keep your pen moving (if you don't know what to put next just repeat the same word or draw a squiggly line or start drawing a picture).
- Do not worry if your writing doesn't make sense.
- Do not worry if your spelling/grammar/punctuation are incorrect.

I thought I'd share one we did today. Some of them will be nonsensical, some of them will be "answering" a question. I invite others to go ahead and post some free writings of their own, if they have any, or try it out with a pen(cil) and paper. It's pretty fun.

Also, I am trying to type them exactly how I wrote them, so any spelling mistakes are probably from me writing so fast.

This one answers a question that was given to us by our teacher:

Where are you coming from and where are you going?

WHERE am I coming from? I'm coming from the past, or is it the future? What I say takes a moment to get to you and so I have said it before you know I have. I am coming from a life full of wonder and I am born of the stars. I am worth everything, so I am told, but sometimes I feel like I do not deserve evertything.

Where am I going? Does the really matter? I am going to places which I have not explored, eve if it is the same people in the same classroom. Things close to home can be as new to me as they are old. I am going downtown, through the buildings and over the trees of those overbearing West Hills. To places that some people cannot find on a map. I hope to visit the physical places, Australia, China, a college. I want to visit the intangible places too: knowledge, love, power. Is it so impossible, a dream to visit the stars? Andromeda? The Horse Nebula? Orion's belt? Possibly. But I would much rather go there in my dreams.

And when I grow older and I finally have time to sit and reminisce about| where I am coming from and where I am going, I may begin to face death, the inevitable cause of any life, succeesful or poor. That is where I am going but how to get there is more important now.

Hopefully I'll be able to post more as the term progresses.

[Lenny]

Awesome idea, and amazing writing. It seems somewhat shallow when you think of it, but if you actually read it I find it to be pretty deep. I'd definitely encourage more writing.

I might try something similar, though I sort of did this two weeks ago (I typed up three pages), which was fun and very mentally useful.

Anyway, it's cool. I'll definitely read more when you write them.

----------------
Now playing: Danny Elfman - Ordinary Miracle
via FoxyTunes

[George]

Mmmm...free writing is a good technique. You're thinking, yet you're not at the same time. I've done it a couple of times, and it has produced some really creative stuff. Some of my best creative works were sparked from free writing.

On a side note, perhaps this could also be applied to map making.

[unoriginal name]

On a side note, perhaps this could also be applied to map making.

http://metanet.2.forumer.com/index.php?showtopic=22959

I've been thinking I should remake that here.

[fingersonthefrets]

just thought i'd say. awesome.

[epigone]

Neat idea. As an English aficionado, I feel obliged to try this. I'm curious to see what would happen.

[PALEMOON]

can i submit a free writing thing here, if i wanted to? or is it just you ?

[origami_alligator]

can i submit a free writing thing here, if i wanted to? or is it just you ?

I was actually hoping this could take the same shape as the old Poetry thread (of which I've been wanting to remake since Nevermore left and I call dibs if someone else was thinking of doing that!), in that anybody and everybody can submit all the free writings they want to.

So yes, if you want to, submit them. I'd love to read them and it'd be pointless to make 100 free writing threads.

SUBMIT SUBMIT SUBMIT!

[PALEMOON]

topic: ocean


deepsinking down to the void of the deep abyss down in a creaking bathysphere, with the captain frantically ordering water bailout while fretfully glancing out the porthole, their line's been cut and they're sinking following the curved forms of nude goddesses dancing in the water, holding lanterns and pillows, beckoning, simply lures for anglerfish twice the size of anythign Ishmael had ever seen.

floating down past graven blocks of stone once altars used for rituals and blood, now filled with crabs and corals scintillating in the dying light of the sinking iron-laid boat, bolts and plates creaking from the immense pressure of the deep deep deep deep void below them. Past shelves of coral and paved stones, broken off now plunging into the chasm of black below. Down even further to calcified skeletons resting on infinity-old boulders, fossils of great beasts that once ruled the ocean silently with dead black eyes watching those men who dare to go further down, here int his black silence older than graves and many times more permanent.

Here there's no light, and the bathysphere lantern crackles and flickers while the men say their final prayers, soaked in seawater, metal pails discarded as leaks spring everywhere, and the captain loses sight of the woman beckoning to him with oils and spices, he sinks down and waits for something, at least. he waits for them to touch bottom, but it never comes, and they forever sink down past ghoulish horrors without eyes but still yearning to see with gasping mouths and dangling feelers, vicious transparent fangs floating, tipped with venom and meathooks for fins, flapping gently int he slight current of the very bottom of the blue vault : the ocean

they fall farther still, past science labs deep below twenty leagues, filled with signs of HELP HELP THE PRESSURE IS TOO DEEP, spiraled shells that act as mountains, and finally into a deep trench dyed a deep crimson from the rage of mother earth herself deep below them, livid and violent, pulsing with a furious rage born from the deepest core of the earth itself.


i'm so terrifed of deep water. holy shit.

[origami_alligator]

11 January, 2009, written at 1:30am

Something tells me something isn't right, but it isn't a trick of the light. I found myself slowly and softly entranced by my floor. And as I stared at it longer and longer, my breathing slowed, things became more transluscent and time was no longer a thing of visually-known change but visually-controlled change. The ground would sparkle, like the frozen grass at the park the night before.

People became transfixed in that spirit of a liquid, the kind which makes you go mad with wonderlust and full of life. Life-juice that turns you inside-out, causes things on the inside to come out. Sometimes I feel like I should write nonsense things but an elephant never stunned a dragonfly warrior with petals from the dangerous green, verde in spanish, cup-plant of sloth hills and a slalom of agony. Wollgromst is something I just made up.

I'm flying now, with a pen in my hand rather than with wings in my shoulderblades, though I would much prefer the latter. I would stretch my wings every morning if I were fortunate enought to have them, and I would fly to the tallest building or hill and sit and watch the sunrise come through the purple clouds of rain and misery.

But how can I be miserable in the rain? I am a brother of the rain, I call it to me as simple as one calls their dog to them. But the rain and I are brothers, not one subservient to the other. When I would like the world cleansed of all the stench and filth and decay I call forth the rain, and he washes me in his tears of sad emotions.

People cry when it rains but I do not. SOME PEOPLE, not all people. HELLO ESCHER, what new universe shall you draw for us today? I am in my own grand universe, thank you, and the possibilities of it are infinite but I am limited in my "capacity-shell" that others call their body. I am inside a shell, or rather I am in a shell, of which life will terminate and I my conscioussness will stop existing for all I know. but stlil, I want to live and walk amont the sparkling sky instead for once, and be able to look up towards EARTH and be in AWE, of it's sparkly, starry surface. I think the oceans would look peaceul and welcoming, their bodies reflecting the color of the sky and the color of the sky is black a wonderful lack of color for which some of us find comforting, as much as color is vibrant these days.

I NEED TO DO THING FOR
MYSLEF INSTEAD OF WAITING
FOR OTHERS TO
DO THEM
FOR
ME.

[Skyling]

Why?

because of the stars at the slide over by the big brown hill and the washed jackets tumble through closets like there is no end to life. But the real reason for all of existence is that everything is going somewhere. Everything is moving through space at an extraordinary rate, at the very least, but most things are also headed to something new. Beginnings to start over and endings to end and then start over and explanations to try to comprehend what is wrong with themselves and each other and everyone and everything and everywhere and every every every idea and concept and design and submission and rejection and just all. The reason for everything is everything. Which in a sense means that the reason for nothing is also nothing, but only if you like that idea more. It's all too true for most things, and that's why most things choose to hide themselves deep in the dirt under the rusted train tracks waiting for the rusted trains to go by on the rusted train tracks. Those vibrations on the rust and the rust are just the biggest thing there is to most things. But to a very small few, the reason why is completely unknown. And that's perfectly fine to that very small few. It's not a thing to worry about. It's just there and not there and everything and nothing and nothing and nothing and who really cares, after all.

[Borealis]

lost in divine nothingness the ultimatum complex is ruined - forthwith betwixt hammers and pencils creaking over floorboards abys(sic) ironies, floating, modern and solo old time and in groups but always surrounded sin is flying against the wind no pentagons slowly golden becoming antiquities hanging over immensities sleepless nights bleed their hours into days nothing can be told from the clocks ticking away until they are lifeless, devoid of anything - sllooowlly progressing from stranded doorways might as well be 3000 miles away but always shrouded by hanging darknesses sending postcards with no rhyme or reasoning just whiling away our minds that's not what we'd thought of but we're on a different sphere and whilst the world progresses we'll be stuck playing our protest guitars. a pigeon calls out for it's friends but there is no reply.

[OneSevenNine]

newspaper taxis that had swept you away now don't leave; and like your mourning coffee that takes you in like nicotine they feed you and nurture you with images. Things that aren't supposed to happen, things that can't, but that we eat up like propaganda and very few of us ever become seperate from our day job, a bee running from the hive, for statistics (as that is all we aspire to be sometimes, as long as it gets us through retirement) have safety, have ease of life, are salaried, are domesticated like a bonsai tree. Very few are the trees that dare to be struck by lightning and survive through and through, that cannot stay near the ground, that challenge the heavens and fear no wrath of god nor man and take it upon themselves to cast off the shackles that bind. But those who do not sip coffee in the suburbs, perusing the morning paper like a chore, watching out the window and affirming themselves that they will grow someday but they are far too tired, yes, far too tired, like a bad joke or a dead dog, just can't go any further. I'll rest myself up and then leave, I don't want to exert myself, I don't want to be stuck without a poncho in the pouring rain; completely missing the fact that that's the whole point.

(Maybe I shouldn't have typed it. But I enjoyed it anyways.)

[origami_alligator]

15 January 2009, written at 1 pm, PST

A placebo journey took place this morning when a waterfall jacket flew over a bride and covered the frogs in all of their sorrow. It took me a minute to understand this but nothing could take me away from the hot air balloon which I clung to for life and hoped to tlake it to the moon in the night.

So speeding softly over a green terrace of children and lions playing together amonthe the sand dunes of the Kenyan wilderness, frozen over from an ice storm thousands of years ago, a songbird toches my shoulder and whisqers in sweet sweet harmony with the stars: Do not go farther from this place, for this is surely your home.

And from their I landed my hot air balloon, right next o to a zeppellin of clouds, diamonds and green monkeys to the wind which they flew in on. It struck a chord with the sky gods and they blessed the red red rattlesnake who was forever thankful. It started to rain and the sun was peeking through cotton candy mountains over a valley of love and love.

[NicNac14]

on IRC (I was bored..):

If Dave was infinite... life would be an infinite orgasm. but if that orgasm was infinite where would the starting piontof the orgasm be? that would conclude that dave, being infinite, was never orgasmic. Dave must never be infinite. But if dave dies my orgasm will end so Dave has to be infinite. Godamnit! Dave is an infinite question. But if the question is infinite there will be no answer because the question will never stop. But if Dave was infinite and the orgasms were a repetitous infinite circle everything would work out... wait... but I am not infinite.. life sux.

[origami_alligator]

The crossroads is here and I have found it Wraiths haunt the treetops and the wind carries the tune of wind chimes from far away. I say to myself, If only life could be as magical as the vibrations of music that arpeggio my brain from top to bottom, shifting my emotions around like play-dough. A song comes from a mushroom telling the trees of what it offers in return for life from the tree. Wolves line in these parts and they are a part of this forest. I look to the top of the world and the sky changes color before me, a red-blue, gree yellow orange rainbow of colors. The wraiths are always behind me but they are not quiet, for I hear their yells, their panic, their hatred of life of which thy were robbed of. That flood that swept through here and carried me to this plave now sits as a river of muck and dead animals. the sun begins to rise but it shines no light on me, rather through me. At the place were my shadow should be is a mirage of lights sounds vibrations, tastes and smells of a wonderful sort. From there I rise and sit with the God and the Devil on the roof of the world.

---

I was listening to "On The Roof Of The World" by Cul De Sac when writing this.

[fingersonthefrets]

i wasn't sure where to post this, it started off with me telling someone about how it would be with me sharing a flat with a mate and having heaps of lady visitors and things, and kinda turned into a story of my perfect date. i edited the start after, and it kinda flowed straight from my head really quickly. so its a pretty fitting place to post it:

I’d be at this classy –ish pub
and this amazing looking girl would walk over to the bar
and I’d notice we’d ordered the same drink, and I’d say something witty about it, but not too witty that I seem like a twat
and she’d turn around to face me
and she’d look as amazing as http://data.tumblr.com/3512490_500.jpg
or
http://i152.photobucket.com/albums/s195 ... e162-1.png
but not only that
as we get talking I’d find she was amazing in every other way as well.
and so i'd buy her another a drink
and we'd talk
and we'd find out we have many things in common
in talking to each other we find a point with disagree on
say we both don't like yoghurt
and that links to fruche
and i comment on how much better fruche is
and she'd be like
'no it's disgusting'
except more amazingly
and so we'd have a playful argument over fruche
and then i'd walk her home
past the amazing park she lives near
and the beautiful lake
and the beach
and we'll decide to sit at the beach on the sand dunes a while
and it will be completely serene. and she'll ask if i'd like to go for a swim
and i'd be like alright.
and so, in full clothing, we jump into the water
too excited about each other that we even think about the clothes.
so we splash around and swim to a little islandy area,
like, you know when the waters low and a little bit of sand peaks up
like a little mini island
we'll go to one of those.
and we'll sit there with our feet sitting together in the water
and we'll talk a bit more
and then in a silent moment, we both look at each other
at the exact same time.
and we kiss.
and then she smiles.
and i laugh
and she giggles
and we lie back on the sand and look at the full moon.
we lie there for half an hour in complete silence.
just enjoying each others company.
we only leave when we have to, as the water has risen so much that we can't rest our heads without having water past our ears
so we slowly swim back.
in no rush to leave the moment.
we walk to the footpath
and then she laughs at the wet trail we're leaving behind
and i laugh
and we both smile.
so we continue to her place
then, at her doorstep, we smile once more, kiss, and then
I'd ask if she'd like to go and see a movie soon.
she immediately says yes, and suggests a movie i'd hate to watch
but i say 'yes i'd love to' all the same
because if she's happy, and we're together, then i'm happy :)
*End*

it has made me happy constantly since it blurted out of my head nearly three hours ago.

EDIT: my god i want this to happen.

[SlappyMcGee]

I wrote a poem right after my Great-Grandad's funeral that I wanted to throw out here.

The horns play music through organ pipes,
it fits the mood but not the decor.
Patterns blaze to the windows, small,
meaningful, like everything we're here for.

A change of scenery, a sudden splash,
Fun! With people in the same situation.
Back to work, the workman says,
and we all return to our station.

The man who reads the silver book,
stumbles over the names.
He knows nothing of our place,
for the end he merely frames.

And when they turn to me, finally,
to ask me what I felt?
I say, Good riddance, the lot,
we do the best with the time we're dealt.

[otters~1]

TBD:
A paper cup--simple, elegant.
Bird in a bath--small, flitt'ry.
Who knows.
Orangutans are skeptical indeed. Change would make anyone skeptical. Yet not, with a capable (copious) Odysseus.
Well.
Like PALEMOON's bathysphere--adventurous, overwhelmed, unrelenting.
What courage.
Tomorrow will bring new courage, new leadership, new lands, new opportunities.
Tomorrow.
________________________

Free association meets subconcious-cum-influenced generator of random ideas. Influence? Music.
Thank you.

EDIT: I enjoyed that, Slaps.

[乳头的早餐谷物]

The mysteries of a forgotten sun
walking in a place where memories fade
it's okay to be afraid as long as you don't say anything
because then they will find you and put you on the stage
sometimes it's better to speak up than be lost
but on a day like today they may put you on the cross

Under a minute. I should do this more often.

[Studebacher Hoch]

Reminds me of something my old English teacher used to make us do.

The clock is nothing but gears and widgits and knobs of all variety and size, a big messy tribute to inneficiency whirring along at a million miles an hour, pouring out steam and noise like a steampunk Iron Maiden concert, For all that work it doesn't do much more than move a single metal arrow once every hour. No one's quite sure where it came from, but they all agree that it was here before the city was, before there were people here, and, according to the more unbalanced, before time itself. Why there would be need of a clock before time they fail to mention. The first people who found it worshipped it; it was sacred. After a few generations people became used to it, and than inevitably tired of it. They built a great. big box of lead around it, and that was that. Generations hence have ignored it, vaguely aware of it's existence.

And then one day it stopped.

Overhead, one by one, the stars went out.

[capt_weasle]

Madame, I regret to inform you that you left your pantene in my left shoe last Tuesday after lunch. Please retrieve it and head to the nearest baggage claim.

[origami_alligator]

STRIKING through the distance a siren calls my name, begging I come closer over the silent hills again. Unfortunately I can't find her but we know she is there constantly pouring out emotion in her sweet song melobies. And if ever a frozen courtyard pleasing to the eye could besribe the way that I feel it would be unbearable the agony of trust that compulsive liars cannot recieve. So what if she doesn't believe in catfish? Nobody required a cartoon to be a bowling ball, constantly yelling how a sea-urchin person became an intelligent form of land creature. As though this were something new. So I threw in a pun, but I couldn't think of one, so I didn't throw one in. Also ATLAS was the nave of a mystic beast that walks of all 4's and now lives in stars above and below your shoes. Always waking on something that was onec something else, its hard to thing what kind of thing the molecules of a canteloupe used to be a part of, though one can say with ucertainty, A DOG. I wish it were my dog, he cried to the moon serpent, basking in the morning twilight, whoring his glow of eternal, yet endlessly finite glow across a field of prisms, setting them off like an orchestra.

[origami_alligator]

Protruding into the wilderness causes angry butterfly swarms to fill the early breakfast morning sky and turn it blue and orange, a slightly transparent screen over the glassy tops of your retinas. And as the day begins the lights seem to have a haze, when suddenly everything is running away from the vision but you realize its an illusion of running. Water pours from the streetlights in drops of glistening sapphires and rubies, enough to make a rich man more wealthy, until he realizes that his folly is observed through his spectacles which he clings to as his last possession. Wouldn't the future look amazing through them? But instead he sees only reminders of his past, how little monkeys play on the backs of his brain and slowly rearrange the picces, one by one until the day is done. At that point they start over.

Cities could be built here in this place I am at, but humanity chose to just stick themselves in it for personal ideas and reflections of the self rather than for purchasing things and sofas from the nearest stores. People do live here, but they are not many, fortunately.

I wish a rainbow pattern could splash through the valley of which you should be sitting in fronto of. More to the point, I wish you were here, enjoying the thoughts of what you could see on any other day and enjoying the idea that this day is as unique as any other. That makes it special that you get to enjoy it where nobody else will ever be able to.

The collage of memories makes
me want to play with and
entertain the idea that I
can fly. This will surely
led to my death, so
I've decided to
ignore the
collage and
INSTEAD I'll bike
down a hill at the
speed of 30 mph

---

NOSTRAND

Slotting the rainbow lights into the craps tables for betting on. The lihts here resemble something lost. But it is all dark now, for it is the Earth hour, and LA is completely dark for the evening. When the angels came out to play the city was lively, but angels no longer dwell where there is no light. The dark fallen beings come out to play and prance. They are not so evil, these beings, for they would much rather dance and sing and play and run through the forests that once surrounded them and fed their hunger, their wants and their love of things naturally occuring. There is no more of that, people want and want and want some more but do they not realize everything they need is simply out there beyond the confines of their artificial landscape? Beyond the tragedies of chemical combustion, a place where everybody is treated fairly and only those who are able to survive will survive?

The lights turn on again and the metamorphosis turns them into shadows.

Original on lined paper!
My handwriting is awful! :P

[Tunco]

Really awesome idea,always wanted to write things like this.

Topic:Anything else that comes to your mind and all thngs
When I think a sentence,which I alway do,i think about this.Really.IT'S WEİRD THAT İ'M HİNKİNK A SENTENCE WHİLE ı'M WROTİNG THE SENTENCE,SOMETİMES İ THYİNK İS THİS WEİRD,OR OTHER PEOPLES DO THİS JUST ANYTHİNG,İ DON't KNOW.aNYHİNG THAT COMES TO YOR MİND İS İNCREDİBLE,WHİLE Iİ'M WRİTİNG THİ,İ THİNK THİS.İ DN'T WANT TO THİNK İT BUT STRANGELY İİ THİNK İT.YOU'LL PROBABLY THİS İS STRANGE AND WEİRD AND YOU WİLL PROBABLY THİNK İ'M STRANG AND WEİRD TOO.YES,İ'M BİTWEİRD EVERONE CAN BEİ'M NOT TRYİNG TO BE DİFFERENT ,ACTUALLY İ ALWAYS WANTED .i understoodthe caps loc is on.what ver i continue,i forget what i'm talking about.im too lazy to look at screen acd find that sentence and continue rwriting.this makes no ense,i can write this forever really bad feelings a bout his writing which i don't know why,why?why everything has color?why there is univere ?why are we living?Why there is "why"?why not hthe word "hjdslrhsujofsjafola" instead of why?or is that too long why all the wrds must be short?because we are lazy?nobody can discuss that,evceryboıdy is lazy,face it,hmans made cellphones because thay are lazy,thay found computer to do lts of work becasue they are lazy,WE are lazy,tahts the poit?point.oint.even that is something.when i hear the word "point" i hear point why?thats lots of whys.why?so lets talkhsfdmsa---nothing screwed alö it up,great topopic i'm thinking now,this makes no sense ,nobody will probably will not read this,thurday,at a lesson somepeople came into classroom[im 8th grade]and said we shoulkd wri,te,EVERTHİNG that comes to our head in one minute,which i did like this,you should try it,it calms people ust write it anything,HERE İ WRİTE PROBABLY THATS too long but i'm gonna write it:sex,porno,science,keyboard,file,hide,secret,otoman empire,king,gold,place,nice,beatiful,sentenc ,keyboard,long,sky,panda,numbers,math,csience ,thta,this,soul,sociality,performance,visuality,tileset,dodging,gauss,rocket,RRR,text,limit,character limit,Mewtanet forumns,computer,paper,pencil,MSN mesenger,mesenger,sticker,mouse,microsoftiapple,company.thas one minute i guess,probably i think i should write lonügerbut even when i write this on keyboard it adds to sentece and i don't know if its taht the right word,probably not,.fort.40.60%6474.nothing.forgot.compuer.but it makes jsut longer and longer i think i like this toic i know tat nobody will read this much but im writing it for what then?for nothing?=yes you know that its wast of time crap.its funny that first word comes to my mind is sexand etc.but uddenly it comed to my mind and i wrote it no doubt guitar ero is awesome i didin't played the rock ban d probabnly worse thatn guitar hero.tyes ths is too long,29403 thinkn says i should always stop writing .MİND STORM MİND STORM.nothing.nthingiTBDTBDTBDTBDNITONJKSLFHSJDL......,İ,EXC.wc.why wc.no mo0re whys.ı promise çbut everythime we propise we borke işt.thats a lot i think,and i'm going to fşinish this later which is impossible because i can continue more but im not bu nothing just sop,.sytop.im stoopped.

Fuck that, it's retarded.