The automatic writing topic.

[Something Fast]

This is a topic for whatever comes into your head, as it comes into your head. Use the keyboard as a direct conduit from the little lime green monkeyfish that swims around in your head to the world. Let your mind bounce around in the little white text box like a super-ball on acid inside a pinball machine orbiting around the moon. Kind of stream of conciousness type of thing. I dunno. You get the drift. Just... write. (If you want to, of course)
The emperor might not be wearing any clothes, but he can still dance around naked if he wants to.
I apologise to any and all literature buffs if I totally molested any terminology there.

You can hopefully catch my drift. But yeah, just go crazy people. It'll feel gooood....

[Something Fast]

Just a click of the wrist and the machine starts, nothing to special in its output but it's everything on paper. Such a shortage would leave us breathless, dead yet thorougly elated. It can't come soon enough, if you ask me. Although I know you don't, won't and shall never. More fool you. That's besides the point, however. I come to tell you all of the merits of burying small pieces of nothing in the ground. Little tiny seeds of nothingness, set to spring forth from the ground and growing into bigger trees of nothing. These shall then be cut down and fed into the mill of the world and used to create a currency. Then you can say you believe in the power of nothing if you want. If you don't want to, we'll make you, as that's the order of the day folks, yessiree it is. This cheese worm is my monument to the man stomping about on the moon. Yes, stomping. Leaving his footprints forever. Would it have killed them to tread a tad lighter on the moon's surface? If you think about it, it was the world's last real great relic, a real heritage listing in the making. Then someone had to do the equivalent to it of walking across an ancient Persian rug in dunged-up riding boots. Hey lunatics! Your happy hunting grounds and main influence has been all trampled on. Blame someone else when you're frothing at the mouth. The moon isn't half-full it's half empty and after so many billions of years it's never been new at all.

[Aardvark]

I like monkeys, like them with nuts, peopel think this is creepy, but they smell like huts, huts in the jungle, swinging through vines, what do you think, what's mine is mine. Sixteen jelly moulds high, forty two pebbles wide, red on the top, green on the bottom, but the thing has no sides. Can you fortitude a clown of brown, a smith of gold, a tallow of yellow or the knights of old? Three little girls, dancing in a circle, one falls down, the other two get hit by incoming sniper fire

[Jimma]

Whisper me a gown of winter...

[label]

the world is spinning into a crazy whirlwind of crap

just leave me to my own devices i wish to take no part.... i'm happy watching from the sidelines

[Bifrost]

It was the fondu. How the fuck do you spell "fondu" anyway? Is there a silent "q"?

But it was tasty in the 70s. Fondu, that is. Except the cheese one. I always thought it tasted shit and wished it was chocolate. BUt perhaps my parents used low-grade cheese. Perhaps if they had used a nice swiss, it would have been OK.

Dammit my shoulder is aching.

[Something Fast]

What the fuck? That wasn't a shopping centre. I was lying there on my side half-in and half-out of bed. I knew if i opened my eyes I'd see the concourse of an old shopping centre, dirty cream off white to brown tiles and potted plastic palms. My eyes cracked open to spite my face and I saw sky blue-sheets, patchwork quilts and the curls of flesh coloured dead skin-paint lifting up to show the mottled brown of old plaster.

[Something Fast]

Besides, we were in love. The man still beat me down for it though. I despair at a society in which a fruitbat and a guy can't be in love. That was a long, long time ago and the scars the police left in my armpits have almost healed, though the mental scars never will. Sometimes I can still remember the sweet, sweet smell of her urine mixed with the floral bouquet of the rotten fruit she'd eaten. I thought I heard her shrieking outside the window the other night, but when I looked out I found it was just another cheap slut with a slightly redder mane. That broke my heart, it did. Like the time they caught me in the nocturnal house at the zoo...

[Serpent_Girl]

I have no fucking idea what you're on about, I'll just nod and smile and hope you stop disturbing me and let me get back to my gaming.

[Thyrd]

I think about fighting, I think about it all the time. It's how I was raised.

The little lime green monkeyfish that swims around in my head wears a black belt and breaks bricks, yo.

[Something Fast]

If the monkeyfish were to wear a black belt, would it be made of some kind of fabric that is barnacle-repellant and immune to being broken down by the rigors of underwater life? Someone has to think about these things, and that person is me damnit. It's like merpeople. Why do they bother wearing bras and stuff? Merpeople really blow. What's that cardgame called anyway, and what's with all the snakes? One of those conspiracies that hide in your sinuses, I expect.

[gertie]

its quiet...quite quiet.. too quiet... the humming, in my head? I'm staring at the monitor, the stage in front of me, blank if you ignore the sugar glider, gad damn that smug little fucker, god damn it to hell...
i want coke, and a barnacle-repellant black belt... that'd be nice.

[label]

Complete blank, nothing, nada. Empty!

[Something Fast]

Her again the eyes have it! So we ride slipshod into today with some badly constructed meals and water to live by. AN AVERTED GAZE! How it stings like sugary water on your tongue and gravel in a sandpit. Sandpiper Sandpaper. A kookaburra is a kingfisher but does it keep itself in the bank? I think not. What's a hidden abracadabra between friends? I'd say it's connected to the axolotl I found in the toilet cistern but that's probably just the dead rat in the ceiling space. Animals, animals everywhere. Tripping skipping tap tap tap across the floorboards, claws rapping like a Fox sister never did. A little beat of ancient wisdom forgotten between youth and senescence.

[label]

quiet humming of the fan, as it works hard to cool down the little mechinisms whilst I tap out some form of sense or logic, see it ebbing across the screen turing the blank white into a mixture of squirly patterns

[Something Fast]

If synchronicity were a web, we'd all be in some respects the tiny little spider sitting in the centre of it waiting for precious morsels of sustenance to become entangled in it. Little spiders that come upon the web by accident, because it's surely no web of our own creation. It's an ancient, ageless and primal kind of web. Gods, spirits and deities have been woven from its silk, as have fate and the very dice that god apparently doesn't play with. If there's any overarching phenomenon behind the machinery that keeps the universe ticking over in it's case that I believe in, it'd be synchronicity. It's the little patterns in the sand by the beach you know have to have been created by something other than the sand or surf, yet you never see the thing that made them. The what? The wind? Some aquatic or amphibian beast? The very hand of some mighty being? Who knows. It's the thing you can only infer the existence of by its tracks, spoor and somesuch.

[gertie]

What happened? Back again, I dont know where I am , I don't know where I've been, I do know that my butt hurts... this is not a comforting piece of knowledge.

[Something Fast]

We're the prophets of the rising inflection, infected and dejected by our own revelations. That's the kind of silence when it's noisy that could keep you awake at noontimes, that is. Nothing too fancy, but nothing too plain either. Just enough curlicues, tendrils and cuves to keep things interesting enough to get so excruciatingly boring. All wrapped in a greasy coat of hagfish slime.

[gertie]

Panting, gasping, tugging, tearing.
Clutching, grasping, rubbing, teasing.
Begging, screaming, moaning, sighing.
5 seconds.
Gipped.

[Serpent_Girl]

Don't forget to hug your toilet, it goes through alot

[Vardsy]

I once touched a purple sky, it felt fuzzy and orange, the suns rays then hit me like the moon shines and at that moment I thought, how good is it to be alive wishing I was dead

[Something Fast]

It's too late for yesterday and too early for tomorrow. It's the halflight halfdark dawn chorus in the most annoying Greek style with more birds. So much to do, so little time. The more time you have to spare, the less there is to do anything. The clicking of the chair goes through the ceiling to create a film of tocks and ticks. Keep myself awake up here if I were down there to sleep. That'snot the case though thankfully unfortunately. Ten more hours and I can take a nap for a while. Then it's back to the grindstone as there's no rest for the wicked. It seems I've been so very,very bad lately. Hell is other people, so I have to make them up to keep me there, because misery loves company and suchlike. The apricot light of the yellow bulb, it's getting lighter out.

[Something Fast]

On closer inspection it would seem that our reflections were two dimensional, but in fact they're simultaneously one-and four dimensional. I could explain exactly why that is so, but we'd be cleaning the sludge off the walls for days to come. *Insert some stupid ersatz-profound statement here*

[dogwomble]

There once was a man from Sparta
Who was a magnificent farter
On the strength of one bean
He could play God Save The Queen
And Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata