How you say, Stream of Consciousness?

I spend all day sitting through screenings of student films, one of which is mine, all of which are my peers and professors who are giving commentary, and sure, i drink mimosas beforehand, and yes, i sip from a cranberry juice spiked with vodka to take the edge off, but here's the thing, i stay sober for a good couple of hours before my screening, and even drink some coffee, which gets my mind focused but sets my hands to jinglin, like silver bells but without the silver, and my bells are in my head, but i'm there, i'm ready, and off i go, watch it, it ain't bad, it ain't normal, but the sound fucking rocks, if i do say so myself, and then i'm in front of the stage and i'm wondering, did they get it, did i get it, and then, i'm in front of the stage and i'm wondering, why am i wondering what they're wondering, and then i'm off to thinking about writing my feature script, which is really the only logical next step, except for this two and a half years of ivory tower academia staring me in my bulls eyes, and yet still people are piping up, and what are they saying? yeah, yeah, uh huh, yeah, and then i realize that there's a helluva lot of dick sucking going on in tinseltown, and it ain't cheating on my girl because it goes on in your brain but it may be dissin my dreams because i'd rather pontificate than ejaculate, well, perhaps let's not be so dramatic, especially if nicE's is buying the lap dances, but the drift is clear, and besides, i don't have the money to afford knee pads, so thank you very much but can you fund my film, right, you're like me, which is to say full of ideas, which is to say without names, which is to say talent is equal to nothing but connections but you know i can't buy into that, and has every story really been told, because i just can't buy it, especially if it's expensive or it involves MerMan fucking a zombie Howard Dean and making a gurgling underwater Liberator, which i don't know about you but i've never seen, so i decide i'll give it the old college try, which is where i am, although perhaps i shouldn't be, and then i decide that word processing renders streams of consciousness obsolete, because even if you don't go back and change what you wrote, no one would ever really believe you, so go fuck On the Road if you're a necrophiliac, because it's dead to us, thank Mr. Technology, but still i'll tilt against windmills, but only when i'm in golden gate park, which could be anytime between jan 3 and jan 9, which is when i'll be back in san francisco tahoe bay area friend zone fuck yeah it's lone palm time felix is gone but the rest of us live where have you gone whiskey wensdays, because that's how it sounds, it's all about how it sounds?