Windowlicker — A New Way To Write Stories

An attempt to finally fuse prose and music.

Music and words have a historical relationship. King David’s poetry sung to the harp, Gregorian chants reverberated Latin praises through the ancient halls of the Orthodox churches; you have operas, folksongs, plays, musicals, sung lyrics, rap, and on and on and on.

It is so obvious we take it for granted. The written word influences almost every aspect of music, and our very lives lived day to day.

But where is music’s influence in writing today?

aphex twin, the “windowlicker” cover art — image stolen from the Internet

Kerouac’s style was influenced by jazz. In my opinion there’s a dissonant lyricism in Nietzsche’s writing. Pick any writer and you’ll find some kind of music. Any creative person, any writer, who has an open ear and an open heart will be influenced by the musicality around them, in nature, in art, in people and conversations, in prose, and of course in music.

But I have not seen a current production of a synergistic relationship between music and prose (or poetry), except in the obvious examples of music with lyrics, especially rap (which I adore). Music has constantly informed my writing. It has shaped the rhythm of my words, and the atmosphere of my worlds. Everything from Muzak, Vaporwave, hiphop, indie folk, experimental, ambient, and all assortment of electronic music.

And I’ve been desperate to find a middleground between the two beautiful worlds, between the abstract emotionally rich world of music, and the intellectual imaginative world of words (and the reading of them). I believe I’ve made a breakthrough.

Here is an experiment proposed. Here you may join in on the experiment.

Down below (past the video) is my attempt at feeling and writing my way through Aphex Twin’s “Windowlicker” (from 1999), a hit single from the electronic genius pictured above on the photoshopped body.

Electronic music is a great start for this experiment. There are rarely spoken words. The pure melodies and beats tell the story and build a world.

While I was writing this piece, this its first and only draft, I did not think. I let the music run through me a few times and then I wrote. I did not consider rhyming, meter, or any other nonsense that poetry purists claim need to be present in a “written song.” I wrote from the spirit, from the Self, trying to lay down a scaffolding where you and I, the writer and the reader, both of us listeners, can come together and feel a shared feeling, share the same moment.

I call it a “storysong.” I’m working on that title.

The story and the instructions on how to read are below.

Here you can listen to “Windowlicker” while reading it. It links to Youtube. You can also listen via any other platform you desire:

IMPORTANT:

Before you begin reading, I ask that you listen to the song a couple times or more to familiarize yourself with it. Then, on repeat, listen to Aphex Twin’s Windowlicker while reading my Windowlicker. Read at whatever speed and meter feels natural and comfortable. Let the music and the words intermingle. Let your imagination take care of everything else.

And most important of all: DON’T THINK. Don’t force. Don’t try. Like a meditation, lightly hold the music and words together. Don’t force imagery, don’t force musicality. Let come what may come. Feel the dance. Exit your mind and enter your body.

Enjoy the process. And enjoy my “Windowlicker,” inspired by Aphex Twin’s.

Windowlicker (by Aphex Twin) by Joshie (Livingston)

We are the party —

We are the influence here now —

Take down your pen and your pencil, creatures, businessmen, women alike —

We am cautioned creator with a magic string dragging things across your vision —

Seething, seething, seething —

We can make words dance, we can make them weep —

With their shapes, meanings, distances, confusions, beauty —

Torture you, twist your insides —

We can make words sing —

We can make you sing —

We am us and we am the earth crust, the jelly spread along your teeth —

The machine gun is a strong metallic build, its wooden grip is strong —

You pull the trigger, we do not —

But we are behind you, soldier, do not be afraid, strike out at the enemy —

Its bullets are your thoughts, your thoughts of hurt, of defense, of calamity —

Calamity causes extreme hunger, driven home with a hard hammer —

Calamity caused by big rough hands around your throat —

Stop weeping, we am not here to convince you —

You have convinced yourself —

We am not political —

Political iz us —

The ghosts in the heavenly bodies encircling the greater spheres outside the greater spheres —

The big eyes grinning ugly teeth inside your dreams, that iz us —

Well so then, big friend of ours, stand on your bed and unscrew the lantern —

Look inside, we’re there, the light, the filament, the knowledge, the word, this one —

Flashing lights reveal us in the club, the shadows that stand on the wall, that dance on the ceiling —

Put your hands up, rivals won’t see you, you’re free, you’re free, you’re free —

Free, don’t forget this promise, we promise it to you, you’re free, you’re always free —

When you get home tonight, do not shave, it looks good on you, that go-tee —

The drink you stirred with the ice in it, it’s still on the bar, but the ice has not melted yet —

Return, pour the drink out, it’s been poisoned —

Put your favorite hat on and hit the floor, with your arms up and your stench of love, dance —

Rivals won’t see you, they cannot see greatness, they only see themselves —

The DJ is floating —

The lights are every place flashing in the cosmos, the cosmic dance floor, you’re among the stars —

Planetary bodies orbit you —

Laughing comets burning at your starlight —

Big solar flares stretch across, the solar radiation, the entity, the essence, the fusion, the dance —

We are so proud of you —

Up here with us in space —

Go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go —

Hands —

Legs —

Shoes —

Dirty floor —

Spin —

Sweat —

Faces —

Eyes —

Magic eyes —

Hands —

Bodies —

Lips —

Lips —

Tongue —

Body —

Sweat, taste —

Neck, sweat, taste —

Ear, breath, sweat, taste —

Teeth, neck, breath, sweat, taste —

Tongue, chest, sweat, taste —

Sunrise, sweat drying —

Morning traffic —

Hands together —

Quiet echos of footsteps on the sidewalk —

Keys jangling —

Every sound the first sound ever —

Lock turning, the wood, the door, the opening, the floorboards, the shoes off, the carpet, the feeling under the feet, the tired eyes, the heavy face, the blinds shut, the sunlight quiet, the door locked, the soft flesh, the irritation, the sensation, the hair, the sweat, the smell, the body, the clothes, the floor, the bed, the flesh, the neck, the nipple, the nape, the nib, the quiet, the soft, the moan, the body, the body, the body, the heavens —

Don’t forget while you are lying there, body in body —

Heaving and now drowsy —

That we are the music, we are the dance, we are the cosmic turning —

And we are in your blood now and forever —

Quiet now, and let us take you into another dream.

Joshie Livingston is a writer, traveler, novelist, etc. and a big old proponent of the Nonsense Movement.