Journal Entry from April 20 2009

I just wanted to write but I don’t really know what it is exactly that I wish to write down. However, I have the notion that this topic will begin to reveal itself after my subconscious begins taking over. It is a strange thing this letting up of control to allow the subconscious to just flow out. If I allow the subconscious to do absolutely whatever it likes, it will generate absolute randomness and perhaps there are clues and messages to be deciphered in this randomness, but perhaps there aren’t. Here’s an example of such a string of unadulterated subconscious drivel: 

And hence whence from thence came the prince riding atop a horse that weighed as much as a fish. Which fish, you ask? Why the very biggest fish in the ocean. But not the absolute largest, just the resolute hardness of a tough gang criminal. Now then from again with zen, I depart from the part where the starts aren’t farts. However, when the thing stopped and sat down with the bling, it realized that things and blings aren’t supposed to be friends, you see, they are nonsense, figures of free speech, notions of grand plans to put a man in the panama canal. Still, there are problems of authority, yet which majority can say its not a minority? Given this information, decisions are made. Forgiven our black sins, our feet are pierced. Heaven is like a crystal ball. Brief as the mockingbird or the lark. But not the nightingale, nor the Ramsdale. All hail the veil is unveiled, a war to no avail. You shall not prevail. And this will all be a tale, blown on the currents and the gales. 

Okay, I think that is enough, thank you very much Mr. Subconscious for that wonderful demonstration. Back to my point that this form of writing is not very useful: it is clear that there that may be messages or themes or ideas that can be construed from it, but still it is not at all a satisfactory expression of art. In my opinion, the satisfactory form of art combines the inherent randomness and associative power of the vast subconscious with the direction of a focused and concentrated volitional consciousness. In this way a bridge is stretched in between these two regions so that they may become less alienated from and more in tune with one another. So let’s try one of those more controlled bursts of creative juice now:

To begin with, I began at the beginning. And that was all I could do, much as I wished for other. But with what faith in the existence of its destination do I take this route? It seemed easy enough. But the distracted cannot read the warnings and the immature do not heed them. And so the arrow was launched, in his view, into freedom. But what freedom can he ever have here while the earth continues to pull him down and hold him tight? 

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