Perhaps writing in smaller words leads to smaller thoughts. Perhaps not. 

The Moving Dark

Well it seems thinking about this ad nauseum isn't going to help. I want to read the cartoon porn but the computer I'm at is in full view of the receptionists and any passer through. I'm stoned. What do I want to do? Maybe the words on this screen can help me maintain a continuous and productive string of thoughts. Why had I never considered that? Perhaps the inherent lag in turning thoughts into words can slow down and pin them to your consciousness. By writing I can keep my thoughts ordered, coherent and lyrical. I can flourish my vernacular like pirate flinging from his hip a sword adorned with a liberal squall of peacock feathers. See, this is the kind of nonsensical wank you've been warned about. If you're going to have an audience, you need to tell a story. So make up a story. I met a girl the other day. We turned into turtles and dived into the Hoa Binh lake. We foun a tiny nook of a cave hidden hidden in the pond's depths. We squeezed inside and huddled together to keep warm. I felt her flipper close to mine. The warmth. That intimate warmth of two bodies curled up close. Her heart beat through your chest. Skin against skin. Exploration. Wandering fingers uncovering tnew lands. Heat. Hunger. Accomplices in a crime against the Gods.