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Ssfueiuiuu . . . Breath out. The tic, splic, flic, of the warm air brushing and exhaling through my nostrils and exiting my thermus. Am I writing to exhaust myself from the writing itself? I think i'd be writing much more if I weren't in the city. My obsession, despite my previous opinions on obsessions, with sounds is not expressible in word or thought. Or, I have not found or looked deep enough for the way to develop the expression of sound in my writing. If i press the pen harder to the paper, or if my finger and forearm slide on the surface of my desk, then sound becomes a part of this writing. Let's discover¡ I will try and write so the sound of seethes through the ink and paper and into microphone at a frequency that delights the ear and overcomes the weight of the sound outside of this apartment, the noise, the cars, the buses. MayBYe YES! I muSt WRiTE BIGGER and tHE SouND FLoWS with IMPORTANCE. Cacophony, CAuCa Riber. IN THE SIMPLE ACTION OF WRITING THE BEAUTIFUL MUSIC EXTENDS AND SUSPENDS ABOVE THE WORD, THE PEN, AND THE PAPER. TURN PAGE. YES THAT DEF MADE IT ON THE MIC! AND BECAUSE OF IT'S IMPERFECTION IN THE GREED RMAR DR CUBRES. SARMP R SAND SAND WAUBLENG THGS FUNCTION MARC BETFOR & CARNIVE TOO BUT ALL OF THIS IS BECOMING ilLegibLE. What a pITy. I muST Stow down. iF I write in PRint & wRIte with a PIThy short haDN movemeENt the sound and rhythm change. What beautiful music. Now back to the coaxing of the silence desired to accumulate and conquer me. The weight of the sounds penetrate like the jackhammer in the distance. My subterranean stream has benefits acquired from this session. The music within the pen, the self, the world, the moment; the synthesis of the inerrant whole. The silence in writing is the culmination of it all. Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleight!