Jul 4, 2006



Two or more people sit in a quiet, pitch-black room. The chance of habitual retinal and sonic impressions overshadowing inspiration is lessened in the dark, in the quiet that often only arrives late at night. There may or may not be instrumental music or flashes of light depending upon personal preference.

The people may use a lamp timer or other instrument to mark the end of each exchange or session by turning on the lights. They can set a timer for one minute or each person can turn on a light when the time seems right to them to do so. The goal of the experience is to record a surrational dialogue within a given, or random, duration of time. The following 'dialogue' is excerpted from my automatic writings to serve as an example of surrational communication in real-time. Very little conscious planning was involved in selecting the words.

This could also be undertaken by a single person, alone in the dark, as a 'self-dialogue.' The free-wheeling intimacy and unusual appeal of such an outpouring of 'the quantities of excitation' could spark a resonance with the hypnagogic, experiential regions that are often denied reciprocation by the social context.

Made flux by wet lives,
this shape is a falling arrow.
The wind is in a tower.

Gruesome tungsten okra might be served.

I broil the corners' laughing soap kites.

Heights of stone stairs, take away my rushing bubblegum.
The heart-beats of imps call out to fabled trees.

With water-oags, my neck-boating class,
row-row-row your boat of ice.


Where your hype ladder is boxed in lion traps,
the pretense of bat choruses' silver flame.

Scared of aluminum noise, cats reach for bums,
weave in and out of a slow pony. Flat mountains
don't exist.

Somehow they do, in mustard clangs.

Pronto is the paper ghost--search for letters to suit the body.