Automatic Writing, Here's the experiment

[Lithe_Joint]

aaAARRrrrr, off to the forums, me Maties!

I have been experimenting with Automatic Writing. (WIKI it, for it is too much to explain...)
and you may have noticed my bad poetry in The Ward...hu-um, ya, the less said the better about that...
I have decided to start a book instead...different format of literature and I sucked at poetry in school anyway...to try and prove or disprove the theory of Automatic Writing.

I am calling on moderators/admins etc. to please PM me if you want to read what I plan to submit(with permission). If you feel it needs to be tuned down a little, please inform.
Thank You.
LJ
Don't miss my friday night madness!

[Kasyx]

This reminds me of a Roald Dahl short story...

[Lithe_Joint]

Sorry, correct me if I'm wrong... but Roald Dahl was a very good short story writer. I would be interrested to know which story of his you are refering to, but what I have is not nearly as fascinating as any of his works

[Siemens]

I just wiki auto writing and I'm just a lil curious what do you use to go into a trance? Perhaps a pm would be the best way for a reply?

[Lithe_Joint]

I think automatic writing is a chore, more than anything else. Here is an example:

Title: Eboe
Written By: Lithe_Joint
Date: 23/01/2009

You know how it goes. A guy sitting on the verge of the sub-saharan desert, lying back against a dune and puffing smoke rings at the setting sun.
Eboe had a long lasting relationship with nicotine, and when the last puff circled into nothingness, he was already lighting up the next fag, tarring the road to his lung with little thought as to why the other went to shyte. Contemplation on health issues was not an everyday occurrence and certainly did not include antisocial smoking behaviour...and Eboe was contemplating.

Granted, about something entirely off topic. See, Eboe is the kind of guy who isn't bothered by any old thing, but when he does get bothered people around should sit up and take notice or they'd be in for it. This time around, fortunately, not a single human was in site and the luminous mauve-green plasma emitting from every knuckle in his spine went totally unnoticed.

Shall I ellaborate?

I won't immediately start with the explanation of how he got to have occasional luminescence pouring out his back...suffice to say that it wasn't all that cool to witness...and would it not be predictive writing if I do?
I won't even delve into his now non-existant fantasy life, or why he ended up in Croydon so many times. (Even though both subjects have some very fascinating memories, come to think of it...)

I'm pretty sure he rues the day he met Alex. Alex was a foul mouthed and excentric prick to the nth degree and with his cunning wit and heartless skill, managed to entrap our goody-two-shoes in a manner which should be documented in the books of history.
Alex managed to slip the knot around Eboe's throat,with not so much as much as a blink from the poor sod. The slipknot entailed a very straightforward instruction and simple but painful consequence should the target date not be met. Nothing Eboe would ordinarily decline, you know, and this was extraordinary. I mean, who- in their right mind- would give up the opportunity of getting one over on the opponent?

“Get to the Great Hadron Collider, and break it”, the instruction went, “or be outcast to the dunes of the Sahara.” This was an instruction, but needed to be heeded as a warning...
Eboe is the stereotypical nutter. He rarely raises his voice; when pushed, and keeps his side of the bargain on most occasions.Eboe has a talent for tasting a bad deal even before it comes knocking on the door and this is normally a good thing. Problem is, with a noose around his neck and the platform about to give way; what type of decision does he make?

There are – of course- many different ways of describing his predicament. It could be like “between the bottle and the lable”, or, “ between the wood and the bark”, or even, “between the bug and the window”. Any which way he looks at it, boiles down to the fact that he is in deep *****.

The above introduction forms part of a currently being written “Current Sci-Fi Novel”, and is the sole property of the Author Lithe_Joint and his true life identity; to be used as they please.

Let the legal guys figure that one out...Avaro mundum concipiendi universum, non multum, aut nihil omnino captatur; cui autem seipsum percipere periclitatur, rerum natura prosus explicat.

END.

See? I have finally decided to give up on trying to edit the above and post "as wrote".

I bought myself a Lava Lamp, and am much more chilled out

[GreyWolf]

I like that. It does have some n00b elements, but as a whole I am very intrigued by Eboe, which is very important to me in a story.

[Tribble]

Well you had me reading all the way to the end. I am intrigued - but then I used to read your poetry too

Please - continue.

[Lithe_Joint]

Intrigued, I'm sure. Just as I was when this strange fellow stumbled into our local watering hole.

He seemed...anxious. And when Lizelle failed to cheer him up with a shot of cuervo, his favourite drink I'd learn, and her infamous cleavage, she glanced in my direction asif I had the answer waiting. She was hopelessly misguided but I felt honoured; and inspired to impress, immediately prepared myself for the opportunity of listening to yet another rendition of the “I hate my life as told by John Doe” sagas.

I was surprised to learn that Eboe, as he introduced himself, had none of that mind numbing grit tumbling in his head. His story was far fetched and unique and persuasion had him recite a collection of short stories, each recollected and supported with notes which seemed to come from an endless supply etched in the deepest folds of his ragged mind. He was frantic; paranoid even, when he started screeching on and on about his followers and the ill intentions they had waiting for him. Cuervo is a kind silencer.
I came to the conclusion the next morning, stumbling out the bar, that this was not a tale to be left uninvestigated. Lizelle disagreed and mentioned something about sleeping it off... Eboe agreed and mercifully passed out on the back seat. We were on our way to France. He didn't speak much when he finally de-comatised. I wasn't looking for conversation.
................................................................................................................................................................

The Great Hadron Collider had always kept a certain kind of mystery for me, even after I had done vast research into the “matter collision” science project.
I could, however, not help but feel a bit pessimistic about the whole thing. After all, Marie Curie messed with radio active isotopes and died, Americans messed with the splitting of atoms and we had Hiroshima. Now they wanted to collide atoms underground? The world and I were indeed up in arms over the topic, but it went ahead nonetheless. On of those if you don't mind it doesn't matter scenarios.
The theoretic fear was that the whole thing would instantaneously turn the world into a splendour of black hole wickedness. The scientific theory was that some yet undiscovered particles may become discoverable. I imagined what it would look like when Anna suddenly got sucked into oblivion and my negativity towards The GHC Project siezed to exist.

But Eboe had succeeded in painting a much more vivid reality which had nothing to do with either of the above theories, and my hopes of no Anna grew stronger by the second.

................................................................................................................................................................

We found ourselves on the border of France and Switzerland, having sunken into deep snow and unable to extricate the vehicle from its precarious position on a road better known for its where-the -hell-am-I reputation. Dammit....TBC.

[Lithe_Joint]

I am seriously perplexed.

Firstly because I have no idea how to continue with a writ done non-compos-mentis.
Secondly, I have now started a "project" which will probably not be completed (knowing my attention span!); and this presents not only major perplexity but also undesired frustration.

Thanks Wiki.
Overview
The term non compos mentis means 'not of sound mind'. 'Non compos mentis' comes from Latin, non meaning "not," compos meaning "in control," and mentis, genitive singular of mens meaning mind.

Although typically used in law, this term can also be used metaphorically or figuratively. This entails when one is a confused state or state lacking rational thinking.

In English law, the rule of non compos mentis was most commonly used when the defendant invoked religious or magical explanations for behaviour.

You know, I actually thought this would get me thinking...which it did...but "merely thinking" would be a contravention of the principle of Automatic Writing in most knowledgeable opinions. Therefore, the term as outlayed above must surely apply.

If you beg to disagree, feel free to say so.

........................................................................................................................................................................

On most outings of that nature, being in the middle of nowhere induces emotions of irritation and confusion.
Irritation on the part of the driver for being molested by a navigator who has no directional qualification.

........................................................................................................................................................................

Until next time then, take it easy.

[Lithe_Joint]

When somebody, such as Eboe, starts giving directions, I may wish to warn: KEEP CLEAR.
The experience borders on being similar to using one of those portable navigation devices...except...this PND -that would be Eboe- seemed to have a particularl propensity to become excited when actual brain power was used. The saga behind this was as boring as holiday videos. Friends' holiday videos.

But I digress. Again...not meaning excited as in "hey, we've reached our destination", please.
More like "I'm-going-nuts-because-a-million-thoughts-are-going-through-my-mind-at-the-same-time", kind of excited...see when this happens, Eboe becomes radiant. In fact so radiant, that, should a vehicle approach from the front- as the case turned out to be- the glow would blind that driver off-course and invariably into the immediate path of our progression.
Unfortunately, to make a long story short, the glow affects our vehicle's driver(and passenger): they swerve- tumble-and-twist-into a safety barrier, to be extricated mechanically and unceremoniously dumped into the back of an awaiting emergency vehicle. And of course this presents a problem in it's own right...
some time later, it would turn out that the accident had been witnessed by the RealtimeTrackEvac's data storage network. Other instances of "a bright light blinded me” reports where captured, analyzed and presented as modus opperandi related to HighBrights.

........................................................................................................................................................................
Quiet now, someone is coming.
........................................................................................................................................................................

[Tribble]

I am intrigued by this thing called Automatic writing. Think I shall have to google and see if I can find out more about it. I do what I would call inspired writing, but I could never post any of it here (really not suitable) - just wondering if it is the same thing. I sit down with a pen and paper and write what comes to mind. Is that the same thing? Google here I come.

[D3PART3D]

Lithe_Joint, damn lazy n00b!

Automatic writing is the process or production of writing material that does not come from the conscious thoughts of the writer. Practitioners say that the writer's hand forms the message, with the person being unaware of what will be written. In some cases, it is done by people in a trance state. In others, the writer is aware (not in a trance) of their surroundings but not of the actions of their writing hand.

[Lithe_Joint]

@ Tribble:

It is the same, I think. But as you quite rightly say, most content would not be fit for this here forum...therefore what you see here is a slightly modified version. Being banned is not on my cards just yet.

It seems to me that one can do automatic writing in bursts, but to have a coherent story with multiple layers, has forced me to improvise. This is what the experiment is all about, I reckon.

@D3PART3D:

Lazy?
Quoting a wiki reference and smacking me silly does not really open my eyes to your point of view. Please ellaborate.

As a note, however, I don't think the medium of Automatic Writing is effective enough. It may be a great way to bring pen to paper(or screen for that matter), by activating the mind into creative thinking. But as a writing tool, it fails by a long shot. I am of the opinion that it creates more work than what it is worth.

So! From hence forth I shall be writing on purpose and with intent.

[Tribble]

That makes sense. You would spend far to much time trying to complete all the little bits you create through automatic writing. I have a two incomplete things already - and I have only done this twice.

[D3PART3D]

Lazy?
Quoting a wiki reference and smacking me silly does not really open my eyes to your point of view. Please ellaborate.

Very well then.
You said:

I have been experimenting with Automatic Writing. (WIKI it, for it is too much to explain...!

And then I said:

Lithe_Joint, damn lazy n00b!

Automatic writing is the process or production of writing material that does not come from the conscious thoughts of the writer. Practitioners say that the writer's hand forms the message, with the person being unaware of what will be written. In some cases, it is done by people in a trance state. In others, the writer is aware (not in a trance) of their surroundings but not of the actions of their writing hand.

Making a little more sense now? It isn't just a quote, it is a link to the full article.

I think it's a little inconsiderate to start a thread about a not-so-mainstream hobby, on a public forum, without taking the trouble to post a simple reference link.

That is all.

[Tribble]

Ah then what I do is not automatic writing. I don't think I have ever been in a trance or a trans like state when writing lol. So I guess mine is just writing.

[Lithe_Joint]

Ah then what I do is not automatic writing. I don't think I have ever been in a trance or a trans like state when writing lol. So I guess mine is just writing.

This is what I have realised also. Besides, one rarely thinks of writing stuff down when in a state such as that...or, at least, so I've heard...


@ D3PART3D:

Thanks, mate. I'll remember that for next time.

[Lithe_Joint]

Those who live a disruptive life say I !

Without further reference to automatic writing, and with all due respect...the following serves as an introduction to n00b writing.

Read it, if you want. I take no offence to constructive critisism.



HighBrights! One would think that he could come up with a more imaginative name than that!

Eboe kept on complaining about a flaming head-ache and I kept on informing him about his far worse navigational skill, if you could call that a skill...We subjected every listener or to whomever would appear to listen, or who would like to listen by means of grillings with red-hot-pokers...
Much information was gleaned from these grillings...all totally inacurate of course, since we did not really know where the hell we were, or what the hell we were doing.

We received full pay for misinformation. And found ourselves within the deepest pit of RHB Corrective Services' gut by the end of day.

Now I need to explain this:
1.There is nothing worse than being locked up within the confines of a cell...
2.Unless you get locked up in a cell with Eboe.
3.I mean, there I was trying to negotiate seperate cells with the Warden, next minute Eboe starts whining like a 6-year old and next next moment, I get appointed as guardian and co-inhabitor of cell 12.
4.Appropriately, that would be 24 out of 24 for level-of-most-annoying-positions to be finding oneself in.
5.48 times over.

But if I was not in this particular situation, there would be no history to write, would there? This is purely because most of what I know is thanks to the time we spend in confinement...
At Breakfast Time.
And at Tea Time
And at Lunch Time
And at Dinner Time.
...Bed Time....the list goes on.

In retrospect, my thoughts are toying with the idea that he does this for effect. I am sure he does not realise that I am not the most patient subject at the best of times.
I will advise him of this in the morning.
For now, the chainsaw snore is like a metronomic space-time excursion.

For now.

[Lithe_Joint]

For Now.

People underestimate the power of sound.

This was my conclusion as we got yanked out of sleep by our antagonistic hosts.


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Chapter 3

I felt like ***** and the only relief I could see was to crack my head on a bottle of good scotch.

The round of magician tricks at the local mall is going to make sure of that.

Strange place I find myself in at the end of the night...morning...or whatever the time it is!
I find it hard to tell where we are, but the stench is all too familiar.

What he said.

Paint you a picture I will, for easy understanding this is not.

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I'm sitting here, sand stinging my back, and wondering about the next big thing.

[Lithe_Joint]

The Next Big Thing. It does have a nice ring to it. About as nice as the ring in your ears after a nearby detonation.

The NBT, to my mind, is a metaphysical structure and I base this on what the press leaked for propagandic purposes.

The very thought brings shivers to my spine and I thank the silent sun that no one is around within at least 30 square kilometrers to witness a certain...how should I put...luminocity.I've grown used to it over the last couple of months or so, but the "chip" is probably the only thing a human should never become physically attached to. I speak of personal experience... which, I might add, I do not feel comfortable discussing right now.

Research hath provided a multitude of flavours in which the NBT could be described. Each description depicted Highbrights going ballistic in fifty international languages across the world. What is not publicised, however, is that this is the only known cure to a very rare aftermath of radiation poisoning known as wrath disease. An appropriate name such as this brings true meaning to the word and I have had many an episode to prove this fact before my treatments of NBT had commenced.

Since you ask- the symptoms when not on the NBT are similar to experiencing your brain flowing through your veins...ya, ya, pretty hard to imagine, I know, but once you've experienced it the comparison would seem fair.
It is theorised by the mad scientists that exposure to high speed molcules excite the nervous sytem into a state of phase shift known as...ummm...quantumosis.

Funny that. Funny also, is the clear and in your face fact that quantumosis was experimented on to such a degree that humanIT became a third language and every blue chip company wanted in. And why not. Very little capital expenditure promised exponential returns on investment within months. A simple procedure involving exposure to a super-speed atom collider of some sort and suffering implantation of the "chip" rendered individuals NBT'ed. So people where "accidentally" exposed to - and subsequently diagnosed as having - Wrath Disease. The available medical aid endorsed cure known as the NBT is quickly snapped up by the rich, who become superconnected uber-beings.

With one disadvantage: The NBT has a few maintenance requirements and if not serviced and maintained, one runs the risk of becoming a Highbright. The mad scientists thought this would be a great idea I suppose, but in retrospect I think they could have made the identification signs a bit more subtle.

.

[Lithe_Joint]

Then again, could they have? These very same scientists did not even quite understand how to implement quantum physics two years ago. What makes you think that they understand it now, let alone be able to control it?

Just some thoughts running through my head...

[Sojourn]

say what?

[Lithe_Joint]

Let me explain.

Quantumosis was the very pinnacle of rapid human transportation.
"Why fly if you can quantomize" was the slogan they peversely advertized on every display you set your eyes on.
One is to swipe a card, get comfortable within a wrap-o-sphere...you appear at your destination station in minutes, unwrapped and ready to do business. Anywhere on the face of the planet. Best case scenario.

But like every new technology, they hadn't quite perfected the rapid transport system yet, and instead of accepting responsibilty for their costly mistakes, they decided on coining in on a new opportunity.

The NBT was approved, rolled out and commercialised within a fortnight and any individual unfortunate enough to have been quantomized had the opportunity to reverse certain side effects. Medical Aid endorsed, of course. You may turn around and say that this guy lives in a "conspiracy theory" world; and there would be an ageement of sorts. But facts are facts and most conspiracies are based on theory.

Are you going to argue that the best of scientists do not base their work on theory?

Say what?

[Lithe_Joint]

One of the after effects not dealt with by the NBT entirely at the time of going to press, was the unexplainable opticality which would at times begin to seep out of joints containing main nerve pathways such as the spine and neck and head.

This would signify a last warning for another dose of NBT to re-instate normality, but when left unchecked escalated into a condition whereby the untreated individual would enter a quantum relaps, or, as mentioned, go Highbright...which we already know has a negative connectation to say the least.
The law to nullify Highbrights was contested at the highest levels of state when certain officials penned the first draft thereof, but corruption and bribery made sure that a guilotine was castored and waitng for the inflicted, should they be unfortunate enough to transgress.

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Our first encounter at the pub had me thinking Eboe had been coming off a high.

Ploughing through the dreck and other unnamables at this point makes me wish he actually had and that by some spate of fourth dimensionality this was just part of his psychedelic withdrawal. In reality, we are in the same ship, and this ship is sinking fast by the look of things. We need to jump and already, I am drawing up the plans...can't entrust this responsibilty for myself to anyone but myself.

I am noticing regularities and systems within this place and am hoping to take advantage before too much sand has run through the hourglass. I mumble to Eboe that an hourglass is still an hourglass, no matter what size it is, and he nods at me with a knowing look in his eyes. A smile can barely contain his excitement.

[Lithe_Joint]

Beware of the bad word! Don't say I didn't warn you...

Purely by reference that we had some sleep, we've just passed up on the opportunity to have what one would call breakfast...a laughable mix of uncooked corn and water, with a dab of some pathogen that makes one wish that maggot infested long drops were freely available. From what I've seen, I'd rather be hungry than sick at this particular point in time.

We are once again shunted from here to there, when the moment of weakness in their armor blooms into the opportunity for us to make a sexual departrure. With haste, we sneak off on a side passage and, crouching in the darkness lent by poor lighting, we wait for the food-intoxicated co-prisoners to advance further away. Seconds pass before we dash in the direction we came from and manage to steal
our way through the un-manned and closing security gate.
The opportunity which the poorly lit escape scene provides us is quickly negated by Eboe's excitement and consequently unavoidable glow-in-the-dark affliction.

I expect this but to be quite honest had hoped that the guy would invest in some self control, which was pretty much a very naiive thing to do, I now realise. Finding a pipe has me swinging about and with one strike and just in the nick of time, I manage to sedate the ****** enough to avoid having us both being spotted.

Like putting out a candle, I try to justify what I had just done, as I drag his limp body over dark wet slate, forward and across to the Shutter. He is physically strong and I am hoping his skull is too as I let him down to recover.