So it appears I need to time myself during these blitzes of 447s. And not to just time. I need to document the context of how the writing came about, specifically to annotate the environment. For example, to say somewhere it was done at the brown desk with the WcW Monday Night Nitro Chair in so & so amount of time [2 and a half minutes already spent] listening to such & such music, using either this unblessed WARNING keyboard or the Blessed K120. At least to start gathering data as to what & where evokes how & why. I have a hunch the brown desk, sight-editing (looking at the screen typing into the screen canvas, either through browser or word document) is where I am more likely to rant non-fictionally by using mixed messages. Whereas outside, if I am outside say hooked into the A500 / K120 combo underneath a tree or above a hillside looking out I will, I think, be more likely to transcend the criticisms & carve out the white space with imagination, fiction, & unfiction. But as we’ve said so many times, the music is the most influential aspect of all. And so with this gathering of data, we really should begin to write down to what music played to the amount of time allotted. Eight minutes forty two seconds; without data I cannot prove this is on the slow end of conscious display. But where do we stop? Which aspects of the environment do we withhold knowing that this path of context necessity is indeed a rabbit hole. Must I tell you Stanley is sleeping to my right, sleeping on the V37. I think I may have already told you that, though it was days ago. Must you know he is always there beside me, if I am inside? He sleeping, me waking. Us together loving. And he stretches & I stretch too inside to cover the needs & create the groundwork for all future writings. Edited or unedited? The word cap makes things interesting. It kind of leaves me no choice but to edit. Through the browser I transcribe, and just below a word count counts, but it lags behind. It is a lazy word count updating itself only every five or six words apparently. Or more. Fourteen minutes! I almost wrote about a fork. I had the idea while washing dishes. Earlier at work I kept thinking about the word “Derelict,” & how I would write about that word later. I’m not even really sure what it means. I also imagined myself writing about “Carl,” to release the first real imaginative piece. One can only handle so much brown desk.