Crossing The Streams - [Matthew]

What to say gotta just write and not even stop to retype misspelled words, wurds, wuurds… no stop, no esllipses, ellipses. There’s whole lotta punctuation that doesn’t get used. The tilda. What the heck is a tilda. Also the cent symbol didn’t make the cut onto the keyboard. I did find out you can still insert it some how, gotta go to the ‘insert’ function. Blah, blah, blah, stupid stuff, dribble, drivel out of my brain, throwing poses, one by one, if it’s not nonsense then it’s probably not real, panning through these random brain firings like a forty-niner sifting and panning for the rare and golden nugget. Okay, I confess that I just looked down at the keyboard to find the hyphen. Fear. That’s what I’m feeling because if I were to stop and think about something I mean just write whatever, what would come out maybe something bad, what evil is lurking in my head that I don’t know about. I do confess the ones I do know about scare me enough. Maybe I’ll find out by accidentally typing something that I really have a hankering to wear ladies undergarments. Oops and now I’ve said too much. The other day I realized how deeply burned into my brain are the names of the kids I grew up in school with Toni Renfro, Adam Cogbill, Eric Gerstemeyer. Interesting phenomenon of this here internet age is that if I’ve managed to spell any of those names correctly, there’s a reasonable chance that someone ego surfing could actually come across this blog and be able to reestablish contact. So I feel like I’m not streaming the consciousness here, I’m vamping, doing a monologue, doing little parlor tricks for you. I am not stopping typing, in fact I’ve been typing steadily since I began except for the occasional um, um, um, u, u, uk u, uk u amnesia my fingers seem to experience. So what, what, what?

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