I have poetic inclination, I always write on a beat, also to find the offbeat.
Searching through foils of madness and discovery
Loose, quick freewriting blenders arose from cut ups…
This section on my substack was first called : Perfusion and Delusions. Its always been offbeat. I like to mock sanity as a beauty in relief.
I have poetic inclination, I always write on a beat, also to find the offbeat.
Loose, quick freewriting blenders arose from cut ups, and renderings, I received, sometimes call the Parm. They are manipulated smatterings of AI, that are sometimes forwarded to me, that I copy in and dig through — here, on my site, and on instagram.
LuLu book is called Subliterate Swoons and a Side of Dead.
…searching through foils of madness and discovery.
The story itself is simple. LuLu, the animist, finds herself under the waterfall. In love with it. In love with death too. And in love with Victor. It’s a book about falling, into Dante supershells of beauty and hell, its about searching through foils of madness and discovery.
I have been long examining ways to use freer writing as an avenue into narrative…
I have been long examining ways to use freer writing as an avenue into narrative — that achieves rhetoric and dances around thoughts — exposing vulnerabilities for density, for crosscurrents between love and religion, love and madness, love and death, logic nonsense and the absurd.
I have already written several (unpublished) books w.r.t my finding Freewriting, one is in verse — book am calling Cutters Must, another is in draft form — its drafty, on purpose, doesnt set limits, exeeds them quite often, plays with language as a tool for blunders wonders and the forbidden, entitled Letters to Epididymus. These books I started over on my site but am working on them here, also.
Freewriting revealed to me profound relationships mightn’t find otherwise, also between drawing and writing. Because drawing has a quality of finding the line to it, as does narrative and this is true also, for freewriting.
Planes and densities, neg and pos space,
all these things came into it!
When I began writing I had an inability to abide strictly to rules of grammar, logic or even meaning. I wrote because the mind was drenched in migrations into the forbidden, and tantrums of sorrow.
Writing exposed that I was poetically encumbered.
Versilla was born, shooting at sky — through the eye of a storm.
What shook loose constantly shocked me.