"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars"

- Jack Kerouac.

I like the idea of a clean sheet and there goes another one but oh well and you cant Be Your Own God without scriptures so everyone has to write, skiing lines down paper pistes with uniform precision and the meaning, the meaning that skiing and nearly everything else does not have.
Meaningful insight into whatever takes hold of your overused and thought-adled mind that sits behind your eyes and controls what you see and what you hear and what you think, but mainly what things mean, and theres the thing y'know because what can a world do that a mind cannot? So does the meaning grab your mind and run with it or does your mind create the meaning and gloat over it and tel you canstantly that everything means something, when really it's all just a jumble of stuff that burns with the lgiht of life and never goes out.

We never knew if we were flames. Who we were, the Almighty, and what, if anything, it is all for were topics we could sit in a circle and debate in samsaric honesty for hours, passing tea until, with eyes alight like red fireworks, we succumbed to the devil and passed into the world of sleep, an evil against living that none of us could overcome. This was the one limitation aside from the inevitable which was placed on us, and one which we could only play silly games with, never defeat - this was the kink in our lifeline that restricted us, the disease we came to loathe as we spiralled through sensation and experience to the outer reaches of existance.

love is a dog from hell.

my only complaint is the abundance
of run-on sentences in the piece.
it made it seem long-winded and it
was really hard to read because of it.

but the content was all very good.

I just want to sleep forever.


punctuation is just an unnecessary complication I find, it stops me from writing like I want it to be.

love is a dog from hell.

sorry for the delay, but i said i would return the crit, and im no dealwelsher so here it is:

First off, i gotta say i like this piece. i love the fluidity of it. Your stream of consciousness is good in that it doesnt read like the unorganised ramblings of a maniac, but still maintains the spontenaity and flow of, well, of a stream of consciousness.

I reeeeally like the last paragraph. its powerful stuff. its gracefully written, keeps the conversational aspect fantastically and nicely hammers home your ideas.

to me, the tone seems like something out of a lenny bruce act (his later stuff, when it was less like comedy, more like spoken word).
flowing, rapid delivery that shows wit and solid ideas, but is still at its heart a good old fashioned rant.

the only thing i could say against this is, if you arent into the whole stream of consciousness thing, it could be quite a tricky piece to get into.
some people might say it was rather unaccessable, but **** them, its your prose, and it does the job nicely, so well done.

ok, well that crit sucked, but i liked it so yeah...

i'll make up for it with a better one on your next post.

peace out
--------------------i'm definitely the alphaest male here--------------------