04 October, 2011


So we got going all ready and gung-ho to get some work down, but when we sat down. Nada. Nothing came to us. We couldn't stand that we had to sit and do work. And so we stood up again.

Ok. Yes, I am trying to torture you with some awful generic prose. It's amazing how easily difficult it is to write badly. You know what I mean. There are those days where you write something awesome and those days where you write so badly, you cringe and never want it to see the light of day. Although sometimes bits of genius shine through, just requiring that bit more of polish and care.

Let me torture you some more. You make some amusing faces and it just makes me laugh. There's not much to laugh at these days. So I laugh at you... and well... me. The mistakes, the puddles of muddles we make and the nonsense that get extruded and by no fault of its own gets thrown out to be trodden on, kicked and scuffed.

And so you know, I have almost no idea of what I am writing. This is just an exercise and I don't know what I'm going to write next, because my brain isn't exactly tuned into the world's frequency at present. A lot of things are not registering, but I suppose that's going to have to do for now. Until the next time I manage to get myself to write.

Up the balls of hot wispy air
Hungry tongues lick thoughtfully
and confused winds billow hair
so that clothes tug on end doubtfully.

Just realised how the poem above could be taken wrongly, by certain people. Thank you for your thoughts. This is to clarify that I was thinking of hot air balloons. Not anything else. Not even remotely.

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