Creative Psychosis

Eleven and a half months without a word to save the dream.

Five hundred thousand minutes to remind me of the vinyl groove I lost, of the gloss black symmetry that I allowed to warp in the sun. I was simply too busy making love to the backburner to notice, too bent on having more square feet to websurf in.

To make so many obvious mistakes boggles the mind, yet it made the most sense at the time. How was I to know that the words would fail me? That they would not return at my command. That I would be without a tender morsel of pride, or without a shred of prejudice toward the neon lights that silhouetted my contemporaries.

Yes, without the novel that my shoulder devil kept whispering about in my ear, I smiled wide and foolish as the wrecking ball of regret smacked me in the teeth. It took me eleven and a half months to finally look in the mirror, to see the damage.

I should have known this would happen when The Art of War was directly next to The Elements of Style in my bookcase. When I could feel creativity raining inside my skull, but my brain had been shrink-wrapped in polyethylene.

When the acid trip remix of Gloria Estefan’s ‘Words Got In The Way‘ plays in the elevator of my descent into this present state. When the realization of ‘the dream’ looks less and less like Fantasy Island, and more like something produced in a North Jersey chemical plant.

I was under the notion that it would be constructive to perfect my corporate smile, my pledge to ‘get right on it’, my undying delusion that such actions really get one anywhere in the kiss-ass political hierarchy of a large corporation.

To make so many obvious mistakes boggles the mind, yet there were lessons learned. The dream is not a fantastic flood that fills the desert. It never was. It is a meticulous drip, the gradual build that fate will maintain if you just promise to never give up. It took eleven and a half months to realize that one word at a time will do.

One word at a time to save the dream that I thought was lost. To show me that the words never really failed me. It was the other way around.

- - - - -

If it wasn’t 100% clear, this passage was about how I’ve had writer’s block for the past year. My only feasible explanation is that sometimes you just go through times in your life where your mind is not in tune with your heart. But I’m pretty close to getting back to where I left off…

And away we go. Cheers.