Thursday, June 30, 2011


I write myself a lot of notes. Very often, I'm driving, and I'll hold an idea in my head just long enough to get to the next red light and vomit it out (metaphorically) onto whatever paper is close enough to contain it. I tend to assume that as long as I have some hook to cling to, I'll be able to remember what I was thinking. I'm often wrong. Taken archaeologically, there are whole strata of things I've written down that are currently a mystery to me. Here are some of these:

"the mainspring of heaven"


"The novel gypsies have a drum syllabary"

"Sequel, if needed, she starts school"

"Apocalypso- the steel drum of doom. Jerk sauce Ragnarok. End of Day-os"

"Zombie fruit"

"It was started by some famous dead guy"

"Rocket Surgeon"


"Sex laws under Caesar Augustus"

"Look at underground railroad."

"Hawaiian fusion bone breaking art"

"The Gastronaut"

"When crossing the psychic music desert, one must rely on one's spirit rocker as a guide" (Joe Strummer is written in the margin)

"The Ever-After Machine"

"Mixed medium assemblage with electricity"

"Perpetual present"

"knife throwing, if you think about it, jesus"

I know I meant something when I wrote those things. I'm not above repurposing them, because some of them sound quite cool, but I wonder what the original impetus for them was.


  1. The Gastronaut. There's a story right there.

    This is the sort of notes I have too. Just random stuff, words, expressions.

    I've found that it doesn't matter so much where it came from, but rather--how can the words spark with each other. Cross breeds, man. That's where it's at. :)