Every writer secretly thinks they’re rubbish.
While, at the same time, they secretly think they’re brilliant.
When you start out fractured….you may as well stay with it….run with it.
There are some lines which you simply cannot surpass for creativity. I hear them randomly – in cafes, on the bus, thru an open window…
Only snippets really.
But snippets intriguing enough to try and construct ….something, around them.
Some recent examples;
“some of my best conversations involve corsets…”
“Hippos don’t really fly all that well.”
“Well, what else can you do when your sarongs go missing?”
“I just crawled out of bed like a sleep addicted marsupial.”
“…and just put the trees in the fridge.”
And so, I march bravely to my drummer (odd little freak that he is) and embrace my brilliant rubbish.
(Its better if you imagine this in a kind of smoke-filled basement Beatnik Café scene. Snap instead of clap…get into it…groove with me. Or…ummm.. not.)
“Hippos corseted by The Man
Try to fly but the System keeps them down on the ground
Insomniac maniac wrong in their sarongs
Missing the freedom, lost Mother Gaia
Forests cut down, packaged up and sold in the frozen food section”
OK. Maybe brilliance is not close. Not even a little bit. Or even in the same neighborhood.