Stuck in the Middle of Mad Country

So I’m supposed to write for two minutes without stopping or thinking too hard about what I am saying which is what I am doing right now and its difficult because I am a tiny bit high and in my bathrobe and leaning over my laptop having just paused an episode of season three of Murder She wrote and some guy was in a hospital bed smoking a cigar with two telephones trying to find a big story and suddenly I’m in a two minutes freewrite- sheesh, I have to be very careful about what I spend my time looking at or doing- I spent the bulk of the day watching some TV show where the main character had a psychotic mom who got shock treatments, and she herself went down the very same path and you know what…time is up.

What was I going to say next- before the timer stopped… hmm… well let me go back and read it…
Oh shit.
Wow.
That actually worked.
I think. Wait. Did it? Or.. did I even do the exercise in the first place because I was watching something and someone on that interview said to do it- and I think he said to do it because something would bubble up- some truth about yourself in those two minutes and you’d be amazed by what you discover.
I am amazed. But I also feel like this in itself is evidence and proof.
Which is weird- because my lenses aren’t clear-I saw that somewhere, that maybe you can’t trust what you think if you think it and use that logic to determine what is logical.
This is all perfectly rational.
I’m just typing it while it is happening, people do that, I do that, I’m doing it right now and I’m a part of the people.
Sometimes.
Definitely when I do weird shit.
Which circles back to the same lesson again. Watch it, mister ma’am.
That would totally be my Drag Name.
I
AM
GOING
TO
FORCE
MYSELF
TO
GO
OUTSIDE
nowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww