10 Minute Text

So, I figured I'd kick off my foray into web logging with a writing exercise. I set a timer for ten minutes and I write down anything that enters my stream of consciousness regardless of relevance, grammar, and/or appropriateness. Starting the timer now:

The rocks really dug into my butt, but it was worth it. It was a really nice night, almost three hours talking, felt like less time. I think about you way too much. I wish you'd try like I will. What would love be without wishful thinking? I can never finish writing anything. I can never start writing anything. Maybe this time will be different, I hope so. Tomorrow I'll write a full song. I need to do more work and reading for class. I texted her in class today, wasn't fun. I feel sick about it all, why can't it be the same--how does love just fade? I wonder if my keyboard would sound good if i fed it through my amp, maybe i could distort the organ, that would give a nice effect to the songs, more raw, more real. my lyrics need to be more concise, less verbose, read more of rivers' lyrics. full of cliche but so goddam correct. My frappe was mediocre, all the mint chips sank to the bottom. The gym was fun today, I want to work out more often, maybe ill go tomorrow before class, maybe not. It all depends on sleep I suppose. I hope I dont have anymore armageddon or cockroach-lobster dreams. What would love be without wishful thinking? You told me to do this. I want to get a coffee tomorrow before class. Santow's voice is perfect for oration. I want to fall asleep in those comfortable lean-back chairs in that dark room with the AC. I wrote lyrics yesterday, they were weak. I never like lyrics. Vocal training? I heard something rustling the cup underneath the rocks, I wonder if it was a rat. I remember the rat at Fort Phoenix, it was huge, it looked like a dog. What would love be without wishful thinking?

And just like that, ten minutes of my life have passed by. I do feel a little better now that I've written all of that down, though what does that really mean? I doubt this will be a highly trafficked web log, in fact I've always found blogs somewhat vain. Who cares about what you (I) have to say? Why do you (I) feel the need to share it with the whole of the interweb? I do not have the answer to these questions quite yet, but I can say it felt good to write what little I have and to experiment with the Ten Minute Text exercise. My dear readers should expect more of those to come. I'll leave with a thought:

"By it's very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude. Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies--all these are private and, except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pool information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves. From family to nation, every human group is a society of island universes."
-Aldous Huxley, "The Doors of Perception"circa 1954