Tuesday, July 30, 2013

From the archives: write anythings

So I did this sort of micro-meme maybe a year and a half ago called "write anything", wherein I updated my Facebook status every hour or so with sequentially numbered fragments of prose. No central theme or anything, just words for the hell of it. A few others took up the gauntlet as well, so my FB feed looked for a few days like a random assemblage of quasipoetic something or other. Fun. I wrote about a hundred write anything statuses over the course of a week or so; most of them are likely lost in the ether somewhere, but I did stumble on a file with seventeen of them, so here's what they looked like.


observe filter reorganize
rephrase redefine sequence
initialize rotate apportion
cleanse install truncate
position track display

Mayan dancing color bands
Three spins, four spins



I thought that the gunmetal gray building at the bottom of the hill must have been an old church, but I was mistaken; and besides, it had rained for three straight days.



Wosbird wosbird, snowbird...kettle-bird; kettle-bind? Look, Blue, it's late - just talk to the man!



Speak the sacred names inasmuch, and only inasmuch, as it pleaseth thy tongue.



Toward a truer pixelwork:
Point pointillism
The Euclidean echo
Unity structure negating rockbound fallacy

Archiflexing within and without in small coils



to talk about the work is to lay down on the job the work is music



We were well into the fourth deck of cards and still hadn't found the blessed Golden Bear, and tempers were getting short. That's when Mazer stood up and announced he couldn't go on with us. I understood - he had a wife, two daughters, a straight job at the power and light board. He could afford to have the circus leave town on him. But we were desperate, if not yet drowning.



Ace child
A rampaging star king
Driver of seven red chariots
Casts his I Ching in fountains of stone withholden



Heartbeat City (1984) was pretty good
I liked the title track best of all:
Jackie, what took you so long/Just a holiday?


I know a thing or two about miracles, and another thing or two about baseball; but I'll never know what the gods saw to smile down on in that rumpled, spindled little man. But the boxscores, they don't lie. That - well, that and college girls - must be the real reason for spring.
hmm well i'd say katie h. is cute and bangs are cute but the combination eh i'm not really sold and thus ends another episode of fashion advice to the stars from top 50 scrabble players tune in next time when scott appel rates angelina's new spring wardrobe

"Porque vemos la luz," whispered the scorpion. "Eso es el trabajo verdad del corazon."
"What's wrong with him?" Indeed. He'd stood tall at Clowin Gap, again at Demes-Strausse, as tall as tall dares stand. But now...our brute family's carapace was scissured beyond recognition. The field generators would never be able to mine the riverbank by sundown - the only way up for us was through the forest, hoping we didn't get strafed by the array of Hammerliks circling above every hour.
In order to play John Melon Cougarcamp's "Pink Houses", you'll need to know four guitar chords: G major, C major, F major and D major. Though if you know only G major, depending on how drunk your audience is...yeah, you might could sell that.
Temwinnah, Temwinnah, want-y-ya come round, come round
Don't let the Seeing-Eye catch you with hands too close to your heart
See the other children are now dancing in the deep leaves
We are found, you and us, underneath balalaika branches.

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