So...

Lets start this summer as the last one ended shall we. On my blog, listening to music through my headphones and typing about absolutely nothing. Listening to the instrumental version of Here In My Room by the glorious Incubus there is no greater way than to just sit back, start typing and let the words take over. So lets see what we come up with shall we?

So last time this happened I started writing about streams of consciousness and the ways of thinking and it's still a subject that continually fascinates me. To imagine the imagination, it's a strange one when thought about logically, but then I guess that's the point. Nothing about it is logical, it is all completely abstract because no matter how hard I try and describe to you what I see when I visualize my thought process you are never going to fully know what is going on inside there.

It's full of shapes, colours but most prominently it is liquid. Whether it be water, thick paint, or clumps of earth the thoughts tend to intertwine themselves into a manifestation of fluidity.

As the music stops it forces me to fully concentrate on the words that I'm producing, in a weird state of synaesthesia they each mould into their respective forms in my consciousness in my constant struggle to visualise the imaginary. The clicks of the keyboard reverberate through the thought process, the sign of progress as the mind slowly works over thinking of what next to write, what next to uncover from the never ending layers of imagery.

Silence fills the air and closes in around the eardrums. Pushing and squeezing at the pressure, masking all thoughts. It glides through the canal and surrounds every thought and synapse, the omnipotent presence of the moment.

Darkness engulfs the room changing a once familiar sight into a masked labyrinth of possibility. As your prisms of understanding glide across the view of nothing they seem to focus upon everything.
Being deprived of sight and sound enhances the thoughts. As I strain to hear the encroaching silence each syllable of imagined speech becomes clear in the vision. The inner voice revels in this new environment with nothing to see and nothing to hear, he has the power to connect both realities. And yet, while hearing the silence you block out any other sound that may appear. You realise that the clock has suddenly stopped ticking.

Now that's the strange thing about just letting your mind run wild, in the face of nothing you find everything, the completely illogical. Like when you concentrate on the silence long enough, suddenly a clock seems to have stopped ticking? and no the batteries hadn't stopped because you when you think of the clock once again you can hear it ticking just as it was beforehand. In the area of imagination, anything can happen, it's like your own little adventure into Wonderland, although I haven't met any queens (of the heart kind or otherwise) or smiling cats just yet...

It's just a release to get things written down, a challenge to try and type what you 'see'. But I guess this is just another way of drawing, it's the mindscape of a portrait.

The fingertips translate.
The eyes examine.
The lips chant.
The mind ignites.