Some years ago I wrote 64 unrelated journal entries while I rode the bus. Usually my inspiration was someone else on the bus. Pieces ranged from the brutal to the compassionate, and from the mundane to the utterly bizarre.
The methodology was rather what you would expect: I would sit on the bus, most often in the back, pull out my laptop, and wait. More often than not someone would present themselves as notable in some way, whether it be that they never stopped picking their nose, or that they had no ears, or that they made me smile for some reason.
In order to keep locked onto the target, I would keep the laptop closed—maybe opened about thirty degrees—and write without looking, as fast as I could. This became a stream of consciousness freewrite because of that, so some entries went off the deep end.
Like all work on No Provenance, the collection was never published.