Like I say in the video, I am going to try experimenting with various forms of intuitive art, one of which is stream of consciousness writing, which is what you are areading right now.

I will do my level best to just write and write until I have filled the space with one thousand words.

I can’t actually types as fast as I think, of coruse, so some filtering is inevitable, but I am eager to learn to access the deep sef and so I figured this would be a good place to start.

It won’t be easy. I have been blogging so long that I don’t really need to think about whqat I am going to say. The real trick is not the typing without pause, which I often do for long stretches of time anyhow. Being prolific in that sense has never been an issue for me.

The hard part will be disengaging this overpoweringly bright mind of mine so that I can see what comes out of the dark. Words are not ideals for that because the mrere acting of writing (or typing) them out requires some of that rational mind that I am trying to learn to turn off.

Right there, I just puased for a moment. Just stared into space for around five seconds before my brain clicked back in and I remembered that I was actually doing something. Sometimes my brain just pops into neutral and it is very irritating. Makes me feel stupid.

But then againm, reality has always been an issue with me, ya know?
I have run out of things to say now, so here is where the more radom stuff starts.

Dying underwater, I failed to see the cognizince horizon disappeared beneath the horizon of my eyeline. A bow wave spread across the quietly turbulent water, pushing all before it while growing weaker and more diffuse every second of the way. By the time it reaches shore, it will be naught but a slightly higher than average wave, and nobody will notice, let alone know what kind of explosion caused it.

Ah, the explosion. I can’t say whether I willed it or not. I have lived near the deadly temptation of self-annihilation – the ultimate escape – since I was a teenager. No matter how good I feel or how happy I have become, the part of my that desperately wants to get out and go away to something new is always lurking and looking for an opening, and so I must remain ever vigilant against my suicidal side.

so maybe, despite my years of preparations and all the sunny confidence with which I declared my little experiment to be foolproof to my good-naturedly skeptical friends, this was all about my death after all, and my apparently solid confidence and ease was just the product of anticipating the sweet, sweet surrender that makes the thought of death appealing to those of us with certain forms of damage.

If I did will it, if I did make it happen by inserting my mind into the process and pushing the energies in the wrong direction (don’t laugh, it’s happened before), then I die here with a guilty soul, because if my experiment had succeeded, the world would have known a perfect power source, a form of trick fusion that would burn bright and hot for 850,000 years and yet be as safe to handle as a pebble.

Yes, my crystalline fusion would have produced an unimpressive looking milky white stone that, under the right conditions (and only those conditions), would pour out enough to power an entire city from a rock around the size of a softball.

And all from something around as hard to produce as a laboratory diamond. In other words, not exactly something you can whip up in your kitchen) bur well within current technology and certainly extraordinarily profitable for the right company.

But don’t go thinking my wonderful Steiler (pronounced ‘styler’) crystals would have been for mass power generation only. With a relatively simple (but sturdy) interface, it could produce any sort of energy you like, including the entire electromagnetic spectrum plus mechanical. And they can (could have) been made to whatever specifications you want in order to give power to whatever you want.

How much would you pay for a car that never needs gas and produces no emissions and is so mechanically simple that it almost never breaks down and needs almost no maintenance? And yet has a more powerful engine than the biggest jet engine ever built?

Or how about a little device the size of a paperback book that you hook up to your home’s power supply and never get another electric bill in your life?

So if I did cause this malfunction (and my own slow demise), then I have much to be ashamed of. I had every intention of using my invention to save the world. I would let anyone have the secret of the process and the ways to get the energy out again, production would have begun in dozens of places at once, and a wave of change would have swept through the world practically overnight.

We are talking Sputnik level event here.

And yes, I was also keenly anticipating the glory and prestige of being the Man Who Saved The World. I have never been interested in money or material goods, but I am as fond of fame and approval as anyone, and I was sure that I was destined to have a huge section in history books about this era.

But now, as the oxygen slowly leaks out of my tiny bathysphere and rescue seems extraordinarily unlikely given the necessary secrecy of my operation, I am forced to see the wreckage of my great dream floating all around me while I slowly die an ignoble and very slow death.

If the history books write about me at all, it will be as a hilariously wrongheaded academic who blew himself up trying to do something that any undergraduate physics student would have told him was impossible on the face of it.

I hacked the law of conservation of energy, and nobody will ever know.

I hope someone at least takes my body home.

(Wow…. prose. Not what I expected. I am not sure I am doing this right yet. I may need to go more primal next time. I am too good at putting words together. )