Began with a fairly recent copy of one of each of these magazines:
Wired
Vogue
Adbusters

I felt pretty good about reusing them since I had already read them and even handed them around a little. And the triumverate seemed like a stable one somehow.

Employing a glass of wine and a pair of orange-handled scissors, I made myself tidy sections of words on my bed: Nouns, adjectives (so many adjectives!), pronouns, verbs, helping verbs, conjunctions, articles. I even had a little heap of punctuation. At this point, the cat began to help. She is an agent of chaos. Too much order, she rightly decided. I lost track of my word count. There are still adjectives in my bedclothes.

I found a large sheet of scrap paper and folded it into a book like this,
http://www.nellieedge.com/fold%20a%20book%20instructions.htm
only bigger and floppier. Many of my words were large, and not in my usual big words way.

Although we had started laying out a wildly improbable epistle from some bicycle bats, I soon realized that I needed both more space and a gluestick. Project tabled in a large white envelope.

Several hours later, gluestick in hand, wineglass replentished, I sneaked out of the house to work on this project in the driveway, since it had fewer cats and more space. Bicycle bats soon vanished into the night in a soft breeze, clearly collaborating with cat. I perservered. Categories were no longer practical. I counted. I sometimes used the most airborn words first. I somehow could not shake the rhythm and alliteration. Which is odd, since I instinctively distrust poetry.

Documenting the book was at least as much of a challenge, thankfully I have a strong reading light next to my bed. I have footnoted the text because some of it still didn't come out well.