Wednesday, September 23, 2009

A Mind is a Terrible Thing..............

I'm a writer. Not in the sense that I sit brooding in front of a typewriter with a glass of bourbon in my shaky hand staring at a leaning stack of unpublished manuscripts for my next alternative history novel.................but in the sense that I write purely as a hobby, almost as much as I write rhymes these days. Just for myself. Maybe one day I'll write something good enough to show someone else or even get published, but for the time being I'm just at that wierdo obsessive stage of gettin' random shit stuck in my head, floating phrases and ideas that I have to get out before they leak out of my ears and ruin my dinner. The way I normally do that is either by texting myself a note on my cell phone, or when that's not available, believe it or not I achieve the same thing by taking a wood and lead device and scratching words on what ancient civilizations called "paper". It's ridiculous, I know, but it's a last resort.

In any form, these notes are almost immediately forgotten and stay that way for months. Then I find them and maybe 10% of them will make any kind of sense. The other 90% make me second guess if maybe I'm really a scizophrenic whose other personality is Animal from the Muppet Show on peyote. Because they're insane, and they're never complete thoughts, just shards of scenes I saw or heard or imagined to remind me later that it's worth formulating into a story or something. To give you an example, here's LITERALLY what was written on a wal-mart reciept I found in my desk drawer today................

"Realistic dream pill two farms papa japan rick-a-shaw"


And yes, I wrote "rick-a-shaw" spelled exactly like that. You're guess is as good as mine, cuz I have no fuckin' idea what it means. I feel like a guy in a movie who just woke up on a rooftop with amnesia and a business card. It's all a mystery.

But you know what...............maybe life is a mystery, and we are all the leading men and ladies.

See how I took a post that was going nowhere fast, and turned it into something heartwarming??! That one's for free, sports fans.


Rae at 24:01 A.M. said...

This post made me smile...because I do the same things you do. When I'm at home and I'm listening to a song and I get an idea for a poem or whatever I open my phone and text myself a note. Sometimes, when I'm in my room and I don't have my phone, I'll write on my window sill...but then later on I forget what I was writing about.

To me, writing is my life. It started off as a hobby, then became something I was good it's how I am.

Stunt said...

That reminds me of the story of the first time the Beatles got stoned. Paul McCartney (as everyone does when they first get high), was convinced that he had stumbled upon the secrets of civilization.

He called over their assistant, Mal Evans, and insisted that he take down Paul's thoughts, word for word, on pencil and paper. Afterward, he gave Paul the piece of paper, he neatly folded it, and put it in his front shirt pocket.

The next day, when he was picking his clothes up off the floor, he grabbed the piece of paper, unfolded it, and looked at what it said:

"There are seven levels"