An experiment in automatic writing

Brandon Van every (vanevery@rbdc.rbdc.com)
Sat, 6 May 95 15:25 EDT

This is a piece of automatic writing that I conjured up about 20
minutes ago as I was waking up. Bear with me as to it's purpose. I
know it's not VR, but in the absence of a shared VR system, we need a
way to explore the possibilities of VR Surrealism through random object
generation. I am interested in how narratively coherent or incoherent
you find the following essay to be, and this will help say something
about whether randomness is sufficient to create an interesting VR
experience. I am going to deliberately refrain from telling you what
was going through my mind as I wrote this, so that your audience
reactions won't be tainted.

Cheers,
Brandon

MASSAGE

I woke up screaming about a cantaloupe child, which was less dismal
than the atmospheric structure of the sky the day before. Eleven nuns
wanted to rub themselves furiously against a fiery disco ball, but the
static range parameters of musical intercourse prevented any
penetrations from occurring. Foreskins are often dipped in tea bags
of the herbal variety, whether spontaneously ripped from the seed of
the earth, or sequestered in vast warehouses.

The mother of ten projects wants her busy head to spin partially off,
and her body to bloat with grandeur. To this end, the measure of
finance capital is the umbilical of the people. Engines come and
engines go, but it is the force with which we are de-structured to the
Wheel that robs us of our capacity for fish-nesting. I too crave
furniture-nutrition, but cannot locate a good enigma with which to
rule magnanimously.

Eleven scepters are going to be blasted into space this evening.
Three of them will be made from garden toads, but some will find
security through immolation.