I wrote a thing in the style of Joyce. You know that part of Ulysses that everyone hates? The pages and pages of unpunctuated, non-grammared train of thought. Yeah I wrote something in the style of that. Here it is.
on leaving the house i encounter immediate heat and an existential crisis but i walk on fumbling down the long path it is straight my steps resonate through my body my face moves at the thought of today it does an upturned smile and frowns at the seems like brown paper does when its creased the walk is long but not arduous just long monotony especially through the suburbs i dont really think about much at all just reaching my destination which is closer now the heat burns into my scalp and the wind freshens my skin but im hot too hot when i reach the main road i walk out drowned in sound the headphones project and i stride out as though nothing was coming screech screech said the tyres and now i look upon the giant steeple of the medieval church yet modern i always thought of hanging myself off the spire it was high and id close my eyes just gone over into the blackest sleep and endless dreams ah the feeling of calm would envelop my soul but what is a soul is it connected to my brain and my body is it my body i havent really thought about it that much but i know i really want to feel a sense of calm today in the infinite blackness i really want to know if anyone else has ever thought about their mortality everyone just rattles and hums walking down the street eyes open making noise buzzing like household appliances oblivious to the blinding fact that theyre degenerating slowly oh so slowly living to work i cant go to work in this mindset im useless but sometimes thats hope there is hope in people that there is oneness in the blackness everyone is together