Markovian Parallax Generate: On digital writing and poetics

Once in a while a large machete: output selections

Posted in Program Output (selected) by Eric Goddard-Scovel on July 1, 2007

I’ve run the input file mchain_input062007-062807 through the Markov chain program many dozen times now. Here’s some of the selections I’ve made from the raw output. It’s much like the prose piece I posted last week. It uses roughly the same input file (although I did at to it since then). I have however left it separated as I usually do, so that it’s easier to move around and delete lines in the composition process that normally follows. I should note that many of these sentences have been cleaned up so that they better match my own sense of how they should read. Others have been left as the raw beauties that they are:

Once in a while a large machete.

A fox walking in one’s thoughts, visiting places and images born of man’s conditioning and which keep him asleep and unaware of his knowledge, for his ‘partying’ comes down and looks back into it.

I lay on my back bitten gently by them as if I am a 47-year-old female and for some time after my parents hover over me, considering a replacement.

You have been taught that immortality is a metaphor and nothing else.

The fact that they are not as suitable as you is looking for a long t-shirt and sandals.

This co-worker wrapped his arm and then formed a huge elevator, with no hesitation; I get chased out. Many times I am driving.

I was lying on scales which I thought were binoculars, but it was the slowest and it felt good.

You are able to float just above the horizon, while I must walk through the blood that is all about.

I held a stick before them as if I didn’t feel the need to help others.

the man who had stolen money from me, the boys had let the water in

All I wanted was to buy a chicken and a woman was shot and fell into them. I feel a change of locations in my future, a change in occupations.

Love, that is somewhat independent of your mind, knows that you have been eating trash in terms of “releasing something” or “giving something away.”

We met in the nearly limitless choices that stand between the two towers that came down. Today, it was with a man that hurts children.

People were sitting at a show. It was a tour, and we killed them. There was the old trail. No luck. We went back and there were thousands of these thin pink plastic things we’d come upon in the desert.

This past year or so a couple came. They are both with our pets, who have gone easy on them, at the bottom of the house where the bare bulbs are burning.

The breeze creates a brand new red hatchback.

I’ll probably keep adding to the selections from this input file until I feel some spark. At this point, I don’t feel any poem coming out of this. It may just be me, though. There’s some good stuff here to work off of. I’m just not feeling it. I’ll post more as things develop.

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