This past weekend, strong and sober and enjoying another short-lived spell of what passes uniquely for me as sane, I found myself toying with ideas for blog topics, trudging small circles around the room, pen steady against the fresh page of my notepad. But the ideas shifted from silence to screams, rushing at me fast and fierce– how could I contain these beasts, mutated from a drizzle to a sudden crushing flood?
And the deluge gushed and heaved toward the ceiling; the ideas slapped and splashed against my face but miraculously, though I scribbled in frenetic circles barely able to keep the pace, what resulted was a Messianic list of blog-post ideas so triumphant and divine that the Pulitzer Committee scrambled to catch me when I fainted.
And by the Ghost of Great Caesar they were glorious ideas, inspired, otherworldly. Imagine: my bland podunk soul channeling the celestial mysteries of the macroverse, juggling truths and secrets guaranteed to light the path that leads to he most kick-ass mansion on the French Riviera.
I swear, my words, hastily recorded inside a handy Celtic motif notebook, illumined the dim room where I sat, marinating in cosmic ecstasy, floating, expanding, one with everything that ever was and ever will be. And then:
I woke to another unremarkable morning, just as empty-headed as always, my over-sugared coffee inadvertently slaughtering a small cerebral village of cowering brain cells. I sifted through the carpet of books surrounding the perimeter of my sacred Recliner, found the Celtic notebook and all of my epiphanies and insights appeared to have been scribbled in cuneiform via a pencil between my teeth.
I stepped back, farther back still, and scrutinized my future in panoramic bleak-nicolor surround-sound. Top ten underrated horror movies? A tutorial on the choreography of body language proven to make strangers think twice about fucking with you? A brief and bloody history lesson about how my ancestors, s few French Canadian survivors of a barbaric British massacre traveled south 200 years ago and founded this fucked up fragmented Cajun state?
Yes, I can definitely elaborate on all those issues, and I will, but right now my instincts are luring me down a different direction…