For part 6 of the cut ups series, which coincides with #NationalHandwritingDay, I decided to jot down the first line of everything I could find on my desk; books, notebooks, newspapers, twitter, pieces of paper, contracts etc. that was written in English. Here’s what I got,
Maces Spring, Virginia, home of the Carter Family, circle unbroken. After dinner I sat and waited for Pyle in my room over the rue Catinat. For years, the rainy season would bring up bodies that had lain where they were slaughtered. As the pig’s uterus landed on the blue plastic table in front of me, I knew I’d made a mistake. Think maybe non-food sections specific sections are too long, but inclined to let editor rip that up for me. What will the world look like in 100 years? the text of a work of non-fiction as written by Author and delivered to Publisher consisting of approximately 80,000 words. 20 cloves of garlic and a bundle of mugwort, 100 days, no sunlight. It was mid-way along the noodle aisle of Pat’s Chung Ying Chinese supermarket. Each card features in full colour a famous place, scene or building from all over the world. Richmond Hill is straight until The Victoria Inn where the road curves slightly to the left. America, America is killing its youth. Mother died today. Or, maybe, yesterday; I can’t be sure. A man standing the shop was inspecting swift, cool, all-round eyes ran over the ceiling, noted. Assassination, jewellery shop heist Edgware Road, reported by journalist. Mr. Verloc, going out in the morning, left his shop nominally in charge of his brother-in-law. Russia to seek immediate ceasefire at Ukraine talks. Please fold or cut in half. Do not photocopy. A merry little surge of electricity piped by automatic alarm from the mood organ beside his bed awakened Rick Deckard.
I cut it up.
And adjusted some grammar, opened books at random to find nouns to add, and this is what I got. Not the best cut up so far. I kinda like the highlighted bits, or at least find them ‘interesting’.
I can’t be sure that a man of non-fiction, at least as it is written, would stand in the swift, cool, with his all-round eyes consisting of approximate indolence, and run a jewellery shop heist.
A bundle of mugwort was found at 100 Edgware Road. It was reported and went out in the morning. The noodle aisle, to the left of his shop, was nominally a famous place in Maces Spring, Virginia.
In front of me, I knew Richmond Hill was after dinner. I had seated specific sections, curved slightly down to Rue Catinat. For years that ripped up before me. Mother died today, that had lain in the text of a workshop. I was inspecting features in full colour, during the ceasefire in Ukraine.
The ceiling was noted for Assassination all over the world. I found a photocopy by a merry journalist, Mr Verloc, he raised the alarm that the road was in charge of killing its youth. Rick Deckard, according to the Author and his brother-in-law from Russia, said that the circle remained unbroken for 80,000 words.
“Please fold or cut room”, he asked. Over the days, there is no sunlight and just a little surge of electricity to bring up the bodies at Pat’s Chung Ying Supermarket.”
The mood organ, beside his pig, was on the blue plastic table that had been delivered to the Publisher. It was a scene or a building from non-food thinking.
20 cloves of garlic and straight he went until The Victoria. I was inclined to let the editor pass, it was mid-way along the left towards America. An America that was looking like it was 100 years old.
He reached for a card or maybe, yesterday, the uterus landed. It sought the immediate home of The Carter Family. I’d made a mistake in half and did not want to wait for Pyle. In my mind, I’d spent too long, piped by automatic speaking.
The rainy season would will the world from bed. Once awakened, they were slaughtered.