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Perception of an idea, the search to clarify an idea when it leads to typing, is catching free motion in a net of mechanical restraint. My mind may be streaming images that lead directly to drawing, fast spontaneous notes. But if I try to order them on the typewriter. . . well, look. . . I’m seated, hands on the keys, arms at my sides, eyes straight ahead. . . repeated jumpy little rhythms utterly contrary to rhythm of thought process which flows elongated, breaks, shifts, wavers or stops and begins anew in straight sharp bursts that thoughts are in clusters of words and words poor words hit out on the typewriter letter by letter. . . it makes me sweat, my knees get stiff, fingers twitchy, Then the idea is there and barely recognizable from its passage within memory, its shuttling within the immediate sensory environment which may have fed its passage originally (those bird sounds, the silvery green of black locust leaves. . . that cloud formation written, laying flat on white paper there’s the old brown bottle and the violet one with a cracked neck—not an explicit idea in them. . . just light, shadow, finger marks, reflections, colors from a landscape beyond the windowsill were they are placed. I’m learning to talk into the microphone—to keep it around, the tape recorder as ready to record as a typewriter can be. . . to let speech carry mind’s workings. . . certainly I’m better, closer to using speech as convoy than writing. It requires adjustment, another coordination, just as it required becoming accustomed to the presence of the recorder when we made the tapes of orgasm song. And now the camera. . .

Carolee Schneeman

Added by Bryce Wilner
Updated a month ago

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