P Sherman and All That

Hiya all.

Ever notice that when you're listening to a really good song and writing at the same time, all you wanna do is type the lyrics? That's what I've been feeling like. I've been walking around in agonizingly repetitive circles wanting to create something beautiful. I don't care what with---gimme anything: words, photos, music, crayolas,---ANYTHING!

But I can't.
Actually, I don't mean that like a "can't can't" more like just a "can't". Get what I mean?

It's something horrible to be an abstract thinker. I have a swirly twirly line of ideas and dreams dancing in my head, and I can't get the orchestra to play a number slow enough for me to catch up with them. I'm not an insomniac, quite the opposite really, but there are those weird nights when my brain is literally doing this to me:



You get the idea, right?

It's a colossal whirlwind of voices, words, pictures, and past. That's when I want my fingers to fly over a keyboard and start writing out every inkling I get...but it doesn't work that way. Inspiration comes to fast and leaves before I can hang up it's coat and hat on the rack.

Ain't that annoying?

So long live dashes of inspiration that I can never quite get down, eh? ;)

"And now we pause for a moment of abstract reflection..."

Those stars shine pretty brightly out there. You were one of them.

All I had to do was flip the switch that said "Skyline" and the night would have glowed finer than that time the moon exploded in our faces. They said to make a wish, but I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot to until it was too late. My chance was gone, and that meteorite dissolved behind the chimney tops. 

For a long time now, the sky has been a sort of obsession to me. I'm afraid of heights, but love the thrill of fear. I could hang up there for hours, climbing on those cumulonimbus' like a boss

Even if I can't see the blue in the sky, I still rejoice in the static charges that flit around, bouncing back and fourth, throwing lightning bolts hither and thither. 

But it's really great at night. That time when everything you never thought would wake up does. Those stars aren't all that visible from where I live, but I still know they're there. The moon is a floodlight, the helicopters fireflies, and those funny little bugs that fly in loopdeedoos around the porch light are the shrapnel of it all. Nighttime is like a fiery explosion of light that stands out at exactly the time you aren't looking noticing.