Word Vomit [14/90]

Words suck today.

No matter what I do they refuse to come out right. Admittedly, I haven't tried too much to force them out, but I don't particularly enjoy forcing writing. If it's forced, it's not real, if it's not real, what's the point?

 I believe in genuine writing. I don't want to plan, don't want to think, I want to feel the words. I want to have an idea flow out of me as is. Raw and ugly as sin. Full of cliche's and fragments and things that won't make sense until the third revision. I want gaps and plot holes that need to be filled in later because I'm too busy thinking of what happens next to concentrate on what happens now. I want spelling errors because my brain is moving far too fast for my fingers to keep up. I want to close my eyes and see a scene, to feel it and smell it while my fingers try desperately to keep up. To make sure the moment is captured before the image is lost forever. That's what I want when I sit down to write. That's what I want out of creative writing.

That's when writing makes me the happiest. When I just sit down and let the words flow out of me. Of course, most of these words are garbage with rare moments of words flowing perfectly together. But rarely is something great on the first try. That guy with the lightbulb fucked up about a million times before he figured it out. And science is much more concrete than figuring out how to string a sentence together, so I figure I have some leeway here. Hell, I can't make a lightbulb either, so I really should have a lot of room to work in.

Sometimes I wish I was better at structuring my writing before I actually started it. Then I wouldn't have to stress as much about everything fitting together properly when everything is said and done. As is, I just kind of start, and then figure out if everything adds up as I go through. It can be a terrible way to work, especially when a distinct structure is expected of you. But now that I'm not officially in classes of any sort, I suppose whatever the hell I want to do works just fine.

Like me writing whatever comes to mind. Like I'm writing now. Like how I'm using the word like 700 times to explain something that really didn't even need to be mentioned. Like how I keep typing exactly what is running through my mind at the moment. Of course I miss a few thoughts, but you don't really need to know that when I typed that last sentence I thought about ketchup simply because it was something different than what I was typing at that moment.

I love stream of consciousness. You get to say strange things.
Cabbage.

Quote of the Day:

"I'm always fucking childish, you knew that when you met me."
- Childish Gambino (The Longest Text Message)