Hominid Splunk

I haven’t got a stream of consciousness.

I lost it when I went hominidal.

Man, not having a stream of consciousness almost makes up for everything wrong and bad in my life.

Losing "stream of consciousness" is a precious gain.

I was, from the moment I heard of “stream of consciousness”, which happened in a high school English class during a lecture on James Joyce, exceedingly fond of the idea, of the image, of this beautiful way of imagining thinking and writing.

But....“Stream of consciousness” never panned out very well for me.

Swirling the image of a stream of consciousness around in my mind didn't stimulate me to write like James Joyce.

Or to think-feel with vivacity.

If anything, what I started to notice was the obsessional character and recurrence of the same crap, over and over, in my "stream"...My shit stream, more like.

I needed a flushing mechanism, it turned out.

I would like to change the phrase to “streaming vicious circle of consciousness…”

That’s more what it is like for me.

The waters of consciousness flowing around my ankles seem pure and fresh until I look more closely….

Sensing more astutely, I see the stagnant film of oil, filth, and pollution--I'm standing in a sewer! I’ve been standing in this sewer “stream” a long, long time.

“You cannot step twice into the same river, for other waters and yet others go ever flowing on.”

You were an optimist, Heraclitus.

Now, as a hominid, the stream isn’t a trickle, even, and I’m happy about that.

As a hominid, there is no stream, there is no theater, there is no performance; though my butt itches and I’m sick and sore, I’m happy about that part of becoming hominid -- at least. At last.