Free Write #1

Flesh-colored stockings. The first phrase in my body-memory, and the phrase that first stuck out to my reader. I'm not even sure why. No, that's not true, I have suspicions, but it's hard to keep up with thoughts when one must write constantly. That is the purpose of a free write, to never stop writing. Normally, I don't have too many problems with this because I perform my free writes with pencil and paper, where my words do not appear on the page as fast as I can think of, so there is a queue, a buffer of thoughts that stands between me and the page that I can always draw from. Here, now, I am typing my thoughts, and my fingers deftly move across the keyboard at only a tiny bit slower than what I actually think, causing my mind to look over it's shoulder and go "oh crap", as it realizes that it must think of what to write faster, in order to not get stuck in the pit of writing "I don't know what to write I don't know what to write I don't know what to write."

But is that pit such a bad place to be? It's good to not know, on occasion, and even better to acknowledge the not knowing. Ignorance is rarely considered a virtue, but ignorance of our ignorance is almost certainly a not-good thing, a bad thing, a sin? No, not a sin, I don't like that word, that concept. A sin implies a deep wrong against the nature of the world, the world itself, it's inhabitants. A sin is something that must be deeply atoned for, because you have wronged, you have done wrong, you are in some way wrong, and that is bad, bad, bad. It implies judgement and flagellation and self-flagellation and everything but, perhaps, acceptance. It's funny, then, that sin is a concept most often associated with Christianity, a religion that preaches forgiveness of sins. Yes, one does not always practice what one preaches, but the texts of Christianity all have the forgiveness of sins in common.

Heh, here I am talking about sin and religion, halfway through the ten minutes of this free write, while my original phrase was flesh-colored stockings. What does one even say about flesh-colored stockings? To be certain, I can probably come up with something. I am (in)famous for my ability to ramble, so I'm certain I could talk about something, and a free write is basically me letting my rambling go wild in order to keep having something to write, because we musn't stop writing for whatever period of time is allotted to us. Is this a good thing? I often wonder, someone at the monastery once told me that he realized, after a silent retreat, that we say so many unnecessary things, that we fill our lives with unnecessary chatter. Is that bad? Unnecessary isn't necessarily bad, but in terms of efficiency, is considered an unideal state. To be sure, my running mouth has occasionally gotten me in trouble. Indeed, it's probably gotten me in trouble more often that I realize, as my realization of when I am in trouble, while driven by a near-paranoid fear of hurting others, is a highly-imperfect sense. I find that it is when I am less afraid of what I say, less afraid of hurting others, that I am actually more aware of when I hurt people. Okay, the ten minutes is ending, so I must end. "Between me and your muse, your muse always wins." But my muse will concede, and let me return.