‘My soul grazes like a lamb on the beauty of indrawn tides’

Gorgeous line, Pat Conroy. Now do you think I could write something like that?

*tapping on head*

“Come on, ideas. Shake out.”

*tapping harder*

“Nothing? Oh, come ON now.”

*bangs head against wall*

“Seriously, that ought to shake SOMETHING out.”

*a thought starts to stir!*

“Ibuprofen? That’s all you can say? Brain, what am I going to do with you?”

*torrent of thoughts dumps into my conscious — I’m too overwhelmed to even think to grab a pen*

*conscious smiles slyly*

I sigh.

“OK, Muse. Next time I ask, I’ll be near my computer. ”

Dear Muse — the ideas? Thanks for them. Now to see if they’ll hold till I get home. And seriously, you want me to make her do WHAT with WHOM?!?! Shame on you, you cheap whore! I mean, lovely Muse. Lovely, lovely Muse. I will indulge you, then, as long as the thoughts actually start to make sense at some point. Love, Moi.

November — a month when it’s perfectly acceptable to have schizophrenia. 🙂

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