I didn’t like how lacking in stream-of-conscious content the last post was so I thought I’d follow it up immediately with another one.

Also, I wasn’t happy with how flat it seemed. That probably has to do with my being tired currently.

It’s not very satisfactory.

I thought my mind would at least try to take advantage of my fatigued state but instead it’s decided not to and now somehow I have to work around that, like I’m some sort of person who can just easily work around these ridiculous obstacles of a grand, insurmountable variety.

I’m only human! I’m not some sort of orange peel slowly threading itself through a reality worn only by coats in denial about their existence.

I would very much like to rest the moon on my eyelids as I sing softly, growing through the abrasive art of entering a semi-comatose state that is usually known as sleep to most.

I also have absolutely no idea as to what I’m writing about at the moment, but I think that’s part of the fun on relying on whatever is coming out of my thoughts instead of thinking about what I’m writing whilst I’m writing, even though I’m thinking about what I’m writing right now.

I guess I’m talking about two different kinds of thinking there, as one is much more structured and focused, whereas this is much more free-flowing.

free-flowing writing certainly has benefits; some that I cannot explain easily as I’m not entirely sure myself.

But they are there! Just like how marmosets are there, wherever their there may be.

I think it might be time to try and interject some focus into this stupid piece of text, but then it might ruin a flow so carefully made up on the fly that if I do indeed see a fly, I might begin to think about thinking far too much and then the fly will disintegrate, leaving me to clean up the mess whilst I question why things are and why some things aren’t which will inevitably lead to me disappearing on a journey through dense bush land to find out who I am and why I am not something that I probably shouldn’t be, despite knowing who I am and having no desire to do that.

Eventually on said journey the orange peel will reveal itself and begin to eat chupacabras, as for some reason it does not like chupacabras and then I will be forced to realise that my mortality is only at my hand and my work is not done, but I’d be so horribly lost that my only recourse would be to realise that I’m probably dreaming or allowing my mind to wander far too much than I actually should.

Somehow, this post also has turned out a bit too bland and seems as though I’ve tried far too hard.

I can assure you, I haven’t.

Being tired whilst writing certainly does have some interesting effects.

Five more words to go.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 9:51:50
Written at my desk at home.

I think it is quite evident that the biggest benefit (for me) of stream-of-conscious writing is that I am able to write much faster, despite it not making entire sense.
It probably allows me to write faster when I think more about what I’m writing as well.

Now it is time for rest!