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Anyone else ever come across a folder or book full of old stuff they were pissed because they thought they had lost forever? I just found a ton of stuff I wrote.
Note, this shit will only make sense to some of you, if it doesn't... well, I might talk about it. If the right people ask.
Timeless memories:+ Show Spoiler +uncovering the timeless memories of nothing is like trying to piece together the image in a shattered mirror the image shifts and changes like a stained glass steeple built of the shattered shards of hopes and hearts the timeless dream of eternal bliss melts and fades as nothingess becomes all but the memories remain and fade the mirror bends and breaks but the image remains the steeple tumbles but rebuilds itself of rocks and mud as the dreams and hearts reform into the timeless memories of nothing
This one was kind of a start to me writing during a certain part of my life. I don't remember the order on the rest of em, so I'm just going to throw some in.
Endless eternity: + Show Spoiler +the endless eternity of nothingess draws away into temporal bliss as i separate my soul from my sanity in this endless mindfuck of humanity to penetrate the depths of the ultimate secret to life the question of nothing and eternity only by seperating mind from body can we experience nothing and everything in the sanctity of the sanctioned sanity of the separated soul and then we find the endless eternity of nothingness
Silence:+ Show Spoiler +in the sweet silence of my mind i discover the death of my senses and the heightening of my incorporeal ability to gravitate my mind through the astral projections of my inner demons dancing upon the diseased bones of death i search for freedom from time and find it in my mind none may enter the sacred domain of my inescapable insanity without leaving behind all traces of that most disturbing disease called humanity only in the separation of body and mind is there the freedom to listen to the deepest secrets of silence
Home:+ Show Spoiler +a home seems such a binding concept forcing us to a place a person an ideal home is freedom itself without freedom we have no hope no home in the blissful freedom of finding peace within my shattered mind do i find i am only truly at home when away from all sense and touch of reality a memory of a kiss like alooking glass only mocking the true beauty of being held who can understand the hell of laying down home by sacrificing freedom for a fatal daily dance with the darkest of deaths the death away from home and hope love transcends reality and death but death ends all only in the timeless embrace of a searching mind traveling through time and space regardless of mortal constraints upon the useless body can we find the hope to travel on through this dark wood at midnight finding the sacred circle of sanity in memories of love and home with both being interchangeably interstellar in the insatiable apetite of the craving mind deeper in the fear of loss then the actual ability to lose sanity falls short of transcendence in my liquid and pill borne insanity i find my home away from my heart my love my soul the deepest pits cannot hold the transcended mind as i pass through my interchangeable hell and heaven to the freedom of home
Written road: + Show Spoiler +the written road rambles on in a windy path undetermined by any even the one who lays the road only learns where he travels after he arrives at a destination determined by destiny in this world of darkened horizons and deep abyssal shards of paths untravelled and the one who comes after delves deeper into the soul of the journey frantically fighting to find a forgotten means of arriving sooner at a destination unfulfilling through the pain of mortality and times cold kiss upon the face of those who lead the way into the depths of the human mind only through discovering the pain at the end of the eons of blissful ignorance and the soul of the story do we find the end of our search the written road and the many faceless pitfalls and traps of sanity that await us along the way only by flipping the crystal and gazing through the facets of the eye of the storm can we truly decode that which was never meant to be hidden from sight on the written road
No, this isn't some vitriolic tech related rant. It may not even seem profound to most of you. This is a different part of my life, and finding it was really nice. There was more, but those were some of my favorites.
 
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How do you look at this embarassingly bad writing and not only do not want to erase it from this world forever, but actually share it with people online?
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Did you learn punctuation after learning how to spell?
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On June 15 2012 04:27 Jinsho wrote:
How do you look at this embarassingly bad writing and not only do not want to erase it from this world forever, but actually share it with people online?
It might be easier to just say you don't get it.
On June 15 2012 04:29 Heh_ wrote:
Did you learn punctuation after learning how to spell?
Long story. See above about not getting it.
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Those 2 comments were kinda douchey, but I have to agree with them ^^ and you, I guess I don't get it either...
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dog i get this kind of feeling every time I go back and look through all my old journals and stories and poems that like everything used to a-ok and that everything was super-great and it feels really good for a little bit but i always get distracted because i can never look at what im doing the right way ever again. still i make it a habit to always look back every now and then and go through all my old journals and stories and poems (and notes from class) just because i've always thought that if you don't remember how you got to be where you are then you might as well be dead.
its a really beautiful thing and i'm glad that you were able to re-discover these things that you wrote.
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Just because they personally dislike your writing and/or find fault with it, doesn't mean they "don't get it".
That being said I found it pretty interesting to read; stream of consciousness style etc. Maybe it's the lack of punctuation, but I could see this being separated into lines and stanzas and existing as free verse. Pretty poetic descriptions. 
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On June 15 2012 05:36 Aerisky wrote:Just because they personally dislike your writing and/or find fault with it, doesn't mean they "don't get it". That being said I found it pretty interesting to read; stream of consciousness style etc. Maybe it's the lack of punctuation, but I could see this being separated into lines and stanzas and existing as free verse. Pretty poetic descriptions.
Ah, someone who's starting to get it. And the "it" I was saying they didn't get was more the meta "it" of the writing.
Although I doubt people who have nothing better to do than give non-constructive criticism did get it.
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Yeah, fair enough. Looking at their comments from your perspective, it just seems like they dropped in to lambaste your old writings and pop straight back out. And I think I see what you mean about not getting it--i.e. not so much looking down on them as commenting that they're not really following your thoughts.
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This seems like gibberish. But then again I like things that are written in a way where they make sense.
And before you take offense, I just mean things that are written in a grammatical unit consisting of one or more words that bear minimal syntactic relation to the words that precede or follow it.
Is there any way you can explain what you were going for here as you wrote these? Perhaps give examples of similar written pieces by other authors? That way all those haters up there can "get it".
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On June 15 2012 06:05 Smancer wrote:
This seems like gibberish. But then again I like things that are written in a way where they make sense.
And before you take offense, I just mean things that are written in a grammatical unit consisting of one or more words that bear minimal syntactic relation to the words that precede or follow it.
Is there any way you can explain what you were going for here as you wrote these? Perhaps give examples of similar written pieces by other authors? That way all those haters up there can "get it".
Oh, I won't take offense at that. It's a far cry from the way the other comments were phrased.
And to answer your question, I quote myself. Note, this shit will only make sense to some of you, if it doesn't... well, I might talk about it. If the right people ask.
I can't tell you what I was trying for, because I wasn't trying for anything. Aerisky was dead on, it was stream of consciousness type stuff. My state of mind at the time, well, I'm pretty much convinced at this point that talking about it wouldn't have helped to begin with, and would be a waste of effort now.
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Your writing is bad and you should feel tremendous shame for sharing it with us.
Kidding.
I love looking over old stuff, in particular old drawings i've made, and preferably so old that I feel like a different person made them.
A question about your writings: were you on shrooms?
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On June 15 2012 07:04 TORTOISE wrote:
Your writing is bad and you should feel tremendous shame for sharing it with us.
Kidding.
I love looking over old stuff, in particular old drawings i've made, and preferably so old that I feel like a different person made them.
A question about your writings: were you on shrooms?
DXM. Shrooms would have been hard to get ahold of at the time.
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This is how I feel when I look at old things I wrote. There is this composition notebook I have and when I was five I wrote about my brother and I playing a game called Kitty. All I know is that it involved a basket.
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Sorry but even with punctuation it would just be stale and vague images, mixed in with some cliche phrases from angsty rock music. The total laziness of not even trying to form it into some sort of structure just makes it even worse.
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send it to the new yorker
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You feel like you're reading a dictionary in non-alphabetical order after the first line.
Cheers if it makes you happy/nostalgic i guess.
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EPT
