half_asleep_writing epitome of incomprehensibility This is what I wrote when I was trying to fall asleep last night, after going to the too-bright mall. It worked. I got sleepy. Now, in the light of day, I can see the writing getting messier and messier as it goes on. Also, some of the non-words are creative English-French fusion spellings, but I admit it took me four tries to spell "myrrh": plural allure mural moral l'amor moural meure myhhr myhrr mhyrr myrrh nymph physics psychic psychic chicken niche chien ichen Chine hinec inech enich chnie niech niège nuageux hereux amoureux jeux d'histoire porous peureuse fearfull wonfearfull deathfull deathfall deathleigh league guerre gare The idea that war is not a station. Orson Scott Welles? Wild Card. I am a plastic magic dish. Dishcyclopedia. Austen, Texas. You should emigrate immediately. Euphony is the best pigeon. They say as a raven flies instead of a crow in Nova Scotia. 170701 ... amy adaptability bravo, somehow 170701 ... e_o_i If my mind were more ordered at the time I would've gone with simple acronyms, but while that's interesting to me it would have been boring for the reader. Unless I'm all like - "This is a poem! Titled 'The Options of Stations, Dishware, and Areas, and the Cessation of Spinning Objects': opts post pots spot stop tops" 170702 ... raze i did this sometimes in grade eleven math class, though without anything close to the creative wordplay you arrived at. always got a kick out of the way words and numbers would devolve into a scratchy foreign language that didn't exist as my eyes and brain began to shut off. i still have some of those scribblings somewhere... 170702 what's it to you? who go blather from