These are some pieces i wrote last night whilst i was heavely stoned.
they are quite enjoyable so i converted them to my computer from the tattered notebook paper they are currently written on.
the funny thing is, i cant remeber writing them at all...
The first:
His mouth felt tired as his lips, moistened, gently opened and closed. he prospered in uncomfortable silences. She grasped the tips of his long slender fingers and pulled them to her chest, she breathed deeply.
"i havent the slightest idea who you are." she whispered slowly. "if i knew i fear i would have left a long time ago."
he pulled away and slipped his hand into his pocket and reached down to grasp the cold platinum pocket watch that rested deep in the cotton womb that was his pocket. He ran his thumb over the engravment over and over. He could only imagine what was was written there. He wondered to himself how it might be to read brail. He often ran his fingers over the brail engraved over the "men's Room" sign. how could all these simple dots and dashes spell out an entire word? It seemed impossible. Allthough, he had come to the ever so insightful conclusion, after many hours in a state of deep contemplation, that nothing, infact, was impossible. somewhere, someone, long ago had come up with the ingenius plan to convert thousands and thousands of words into a pattern of simple embossed dots. who was this one person to decide all of this? he certainly had some nerve.
It was then that he relized he had left the pen he was writing with in his top left pocket. The ink had started to spill out and it was no longer usable. He had dropped it into his pocket to rid of it. He peered down and gasped at the dark blue river running down his chest. the streams split out in many directions that it began to resemble the vains of a straong horse. Pulsating and jutting outward. He feared the potent substance might seep through his epidermis and into his own blood stream. it would go hurtiling through his arteries, rip through his left ventricle and fly straight into the burning center of his heart.
and the second one....
"hello operater" the woman's voice rang out over the telephone. allthough, it came out as more of a dull clunk. Perhaps, had the phone line not been fuzzy, her voice would infact have rang. But alas, it did not. It probably wouldnt be too much of a fabrication though, if i said that it did. The operater drew another breath from her ciggarette and and brought it down from her red lips. She had had a long evening, and was not about ready to give out meaningless information. Not only had Patti Rochester in acounting cut her off at lunch, she had developed and searing headache and could not spear a vicotin to numb her pain.
"May i help you?" the question asked one too many times a day. to the extenet that it had entirely lost its meaning. If the customer called they obviously want you to help them. Why else would they call? to talk about their days? well, some did...She was always dissapointed at the fact thatsimple greetings had become so automatic. She missed the days when a "hello" or a "good evening" really meant something. The days when people actually took to the time to think about their neighbors day actually beging wonderful. As far as the operator was concerened, not a single human being cared whether her day was fabulous or if she nearly died. However, it was not death that frghtened her. It was Johova's Witnesses. Ever since she was a child. A good friend was one (a johova's witness) She came from a respected family that lived on the hill on the edge of town. One afternoon she had acedently let the word "shit" drop from her lips. Apon hearing, The friend's mother, proceaded to drag her into the living room and give her a spanking. Having never had an angry adults hand laid apon her, she was absolutly shocked, she clutched her searing bottom and cried all the way home.
The woman on the other line was asking whether they had a ceramics section of the department store. Reminding the woman that they were a department store focusing mainly on the retail of clothing, she kindly recomended her to a home depot.
hahahahahah
ive never been so creative in...that state...before. its pretty cool though.
they are quite enjoyable so i converted them to my computer from the tattered notebook paper they are currently written on.
the funny thing is, i cant remeber writing them at all...
The first:
His mouth felt tired as his lips, moistened, gently opened and closed. he prospered in uncomfortable silences. She grasped the tips of his long slender fingers and pulled them to her chest, she breathed deeply.
"i havent the slightest idea who you are." she whispered slowly. "if i knew i fear i would have left a long time ago."
he pulled away and slipped his hand into his pocket and reached down to grasp the cold platinum pocket watch that rested deep in the cotton womb that was his pocket. He ran his thumb over the engravment over and over. He could only imagine what was was written there. He wondered to himself how it might be to read brail. He often ran his fingers over the brail engraved over the "men's Room" sign. how could all these simple dots and dashes spell out an entire word? It seemed impossible. Allthough, he had come to the ever so insightful conclusion, after many hours in a state of deep contemplation, that nothing, infact, was impossible. somewhere, someone, long ago had come up with the ingenius plan to convert thousands and thousands of words into a pattern of simple embossed dots. who was this one person to decide all of this? he certainly had some nerve.
It was then that he relized he had left the pen he was writing with in his top left pocket. The ink had started to spill out and it was no longer usable. He had dropped it into his pocket to rid of it. He peered down and gasped at the dark blue river running down his chest. the streams split out in many directions that it began to resemble the vains of a straong horse. Pulsating and jutting outward. He feared the potent substance might seep through his epidermis and into his own blood stream. it would go hurtiling through his arteries, rip through his left ventricle and fly straight into the burning center of his heart.
and the second one....
"hello operater" the woman's voice rang out over the telephone. allthough, it came out as more of a dull clunk. Perhaps, had the phone line not been fuzzy, her voice would infact have rang. But alas, it did not. It probably wouldnt be too much of a fabrication though, if i said that it did. The operater drew another breath from her ciggarette and and brought it down from her red lips. She had had a long evening, and was not about ready to give out meaningless information. Not only had Patti Rochester in acounting cut her off at lunch, she had developed and searing headache and could not spear a vicotin to numb her pain.
"May i help you?" the question asked one too many times a day. to the extenet that it had entirely lost its meaning. If the customer called they obviously want you to help them. Why else would they call? to talk about their days? well, some did...She was always dissapointed at the fact thatsimple greetings had become so automatic. She missed the days when a "hello" or a "good evening" really meant something. The days when people actually took to the time to think about their neighbors day actually beging wonderful. As far as the operator was concerened, not a single human being cared whether her day was fabulous or if she nearly died. However, it was not death that frghtened her. It was Johova's Witnesses. Ever since she was a child. A good friend was one (a johova's witness) She came from a respected family that lived on the hill on the edge of town. One afternoon she had acedently let the word "shit" drop from her lips. Apon hearing, The friend's mother, proceaded to drag her into the living room and give her a spanking. Having never had an angry adults hand laid apon her, she was absolutly shocked, she clutched her searing bottom and cried all the way home.
The woman on the other line was asking whether they had a ceramics section of the department store. Reminding the woman that they were a department store focusing mainly on the retail of clothing, she kindly recomended her to a home depot.
hahahahahah
ive never been so creative in...that state...before. its pretty cool though.
posted by the idiot savant at 12:15 AM
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