Thursday, November 16th., Fulham Park Gardens, London.
Today is published my third book, "Polite Farces". (Lamley & Co. 2/6 net.). And tonight, by coincidence, I made the first real start of the final writing of "Anna Tellwright". I worked from 5 to 12 p.m. and wrote 1,000 words, first-rate stuff.
I was out strolling this morning. There are really three 'types' of strolling as far as I am concerned: concentration on getting ideas; paying close attention to surroundings, people and places, a sort of 'here and now' experience; just drifting, a sort of semi-dream state. That's what I was doing this morning and I think it cleared my head so as to work better this afternoon and evening.
I have noticed lately, and again this morning, that I discover a tune going on in my head. Sometimes I can trace its origin back to something I have heard, but often it appears as if unconsciously. It is distinctly 'heard'. Occasionally it is annoying, but not often. As soon as I concentrate on something it disappears so I conclude that it is my brain somehow filling a vacuum caused by an absence of sensation. This idea led me to reflect on mental imagery. I have little or no visual imagery which discussion with others leads me to think is unusual. My thinking is decidedly aural. I wonder then if others 'think' as I do, or maybe there are people who think entirely visually. I can't imagine what that would be like. And instead of hearing tunes in the mind they may see images, or even have olfactory experience. Who knows?
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