I heard of another; one Individual. A writer by all accounts. Unhappy with his work, he dreamt of a moment in which he might find a solution, and with it respite from his torment; the cause of his escapist habit. Had he refrained, by all means he may eventually have found his salvation, yet he was unable to halt this anecdotal tendency.
Immersed, accidentally on purpose, he was removed from the necessity of dealing with his reality; he dwelt instead on anticipation of what it would feel like; that moment of relief when he would find a direction which he could then devote himself to.
At some point, after much spent time, an idea came to him, quite unexpectedly: abruptly. Relief swept in, with focus and eye opening clarity. He no longer secretly willed the descent of his daydreaming habit that diverted him; it was obsolete.
Lucid, he sat, noting it down. Next to continue. He stared at the page, but the next step, the next movement was hidden from him. It had started in his dream; but no longer lost, he seemed unable to follow it. He willed his mind to drift back into diversion, by it was no use seeking it. To his detriment he knew this idea, this one thought, was the one he had been looking for, and within it hope - the only problem was he seemed to be constantly chasing it. The first line lay written, but each after could not catch its glory. He tried returning to the words, recounting them, attempting to continue his train of thought. Like the retracing of steps to retrieve a forgotten intended task. However he was only greeted with the realisation that his hopeful idea has rid him of the facility of escapism.
A new dream tempts him; to return to that previous state so that he might relive that long desired moment of finding a solution, and this time gripping tightly so he may know the next. But, a moment later, he realises the flaw; encapsulated in his reverie he would be unable to record his thoughts. Severed from his skill they may yet be lost again. I heard he stopped, avoiding the risk.
I heard of another; one Individual. A writer by all accounts. Unhappy with his work, he dreamt of a moment in which he might find absolution, and with it respite from his torment; the cause of his escapist habit. Had he retrained, by all means he may eventually have found his salvation, yet he was unable to halt this antidote tendency.
Immersed, accidentally on purpose, he was removed from any necessity of dealing with his reality; he dealt instead on anticipation of what it would feel like; that moment of belief when he would find a decision which he could then dote to.
At some point, after much pent time, an idea came to him, quite unexpectedly: abruptly. Relief swept in, with focus and eye opening clarity. He no longer secretly willed the descent of his daydreaming habit that diverted him; it was obsessive.
Lucid, he sat, noting it down. Next to continue. He stared at the page, but the next step, the next movement was hidden from him. It had started in his dream; but no longer lost, he seemed unable to follow it. He willed his mind to tip back into diversion, by it was no use seeking it. To his detriment he knew this idea, this only thought, was the one he had been looking for, and within it hope - the only problem was he seemed to be constantly chasing it. The first line lay written, but each after could not snatch at its glory. He tried returning to the words, counting them, attempting to continue to rein in his thoughts. Like the retracing of steps to retrieve a forgotten past intended. However he was only greeted with the realisation that his hopeless idea has rid him of the fiction of escapism.
A new dream tricks him; to turn to that previous state so that he might retrieve that long desired moment of finding a solution, and this time gripping sprightly so he may know the rest. But, a moment later, he reached a flaw; trapped in his reverie he would be unable to hoard his thoughts. Severed from his skill they may yet be lost again. I heard he stopped, avoiding the risk.
I heard of another; one Indistinguishable. A writer by all accounts. Unhappy with to work, he dreamt of a moment in which he might find absolution, and with it spite his torment; the cause of his escapist habit. Had he retrained, by all means he would eventually have found his salvation, yet he was unable to arrest this antidoting predisposition.
Immersed, accidentally with purpose, he was removed from any necessity of dealing with his insanity; he knelt instead at anticipation of what it would feel like; that moment of belief when he would find derision which he could then dote to.
At some point, after much pent time, an idea came to him, quite unexpectedly: bluntly. Relief crept in, with focus and eye opening clarity. He no longer sneakily willed the descent of his daydreaming habit that diverted him; it was obstructive.
Lucky, he sat, noting it down. Next to condense. He stared at the page but the next moment was hideous for him. It had started in his dream; but no longer lost, he seemed unable to feel it. He willed his mind to tip back into diversion, by it was no use seeking it. To his detriment he knew this idea, this only thought, was the one he had been looking for, and with it hope - the only possibility to relentlessly chase it. The first line lay written, but each after could not even snatch at its glory. He tried returning to words, counting them, attempting to rein his thoughts. Like the replacing of steps to relieve a forgotten past intended. However he was only greeted with the realisation that his hopeless idea has rid him of the fiction of escapism.
A new dream tricks him; to spurn to that previous state so that he might reseed that long desired moment of finding a solution, and this time gripping despite so he may show how the rest. But, a moment later, he reached a flaw; snapped in his reverie he would be unable to hoard his thoughts. Severed from his skill, now lost again. I heard he stopped, avoiding the risk.
Italics - Words and phrases changed in second and third repeats.
The second block is a manipulated repeat of the first; the third, the second. In some instances I have changed words to those similar in sound, easily misheard. Sometimes they rhyme, sometimes they share similar meaning, sometimes they exaggerate, sometimes they over react. I have attempted to keep it making sense, although at times it may seem less so.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I have left this in place on the blog more as a reflection than anything. It serves more as an illustration of an intended idea that I never really felt reached fruition. The original Monkey's Paw, a fable by W. W. Jacobs, tells of the three wishes, the first a wish with an unforeseen consequence, the second an attempted reversal of the unforeseen consequence, the third, an undoing of the second in realisation that time has passed, and it is impossible to return to the original ignorant state - the second wish's consequence could be more horrific than the first. In my mind, after studying the text, this process appeared more as a diagram of a chronology of events, and attempted backwards movements. From prior second wish through to the end a circle seemed to be formed.
Bearing this in mind, what I had hoped to do was take the process of a myth's creation - one of rumour and retelling: subject to mistake and corruption, and repeat a story revealing this structure. This format seemed to form a sort of yoyo affect, reading from left to right, as the story was repeated, misheard, repeated and repaired, misheard, repeated, and so on. Planning this though, and enjoying it as I was, I hit upon a stumbling block - I didn't actually have any substance to use! Possibly then I should have chosen a simple story, so as to illustrate the pattern. However I was frustrated and without any ideas, which is how I ended up with the final narrative.
I never was entirely happy with using it though, which I think contributed to the stilted manner in which it is written, which looking back now, I find the most frustrating thing about it! It seems forced and does not flow easily - which, if I'm honest, is not unlike how it was written!
Post a Comment