There is a blank page ahead of me.
It's always so hard to figure out what to say when I actually sit down to say all the things that have been roiling around in that brain cave of mine. It stirs up there, kicking up a furious storm of cognition, just waiting to escape into the universe. It's relentless. It wants out.
Then, upon being shown the way to the egress, its stalls and flickers like a tiny candle in the path of a fart. This is the way my mind works. If I simply run through stream of consciousness, everything can flow freely. That free flow is a torrent of blab that would make the most terrifying of raging rivers - at the height of its tide - seem like a leaky garden hose.
The problem is that civilized society would hardly allow such a deluge of mental and verbal sludge to freely pass through its gossamer curtain of sanity. Yup. That's how my mind works.
Then come the distractions. I'm so easily distracted by tangents of my own mind's creation. A sentence about editing a song could lead me to wonder how a moose could possibly ever use a screwdriver. I'm not kidding. Let's examine.
- (Original thought) I need to rerecord my guitar track.
- Maybe I can polish up the tone a bit.
- I don't think the EQ will fix it.
- Too much to fix.
- I still need to fix the rear windshield wiper on the car.
- The blade on that wiper is brand new.
- Did I leave my knife at home?
- I like the one I saw with dear antler handle.
- I wonder if there's moose antler handles.
- It might make it easier to grip with my huge hands.
- Maybe I could make one for that long skinny screwdriver I hate.
- I need that one for the rear wiper
- I wish I could get the moose to do it.
- How would a moose hold a screwdriver? That's just silly.
No joke. I had this thought train derail in my cranium one day. And, I've finally fixed that stupid rear windshield wiper on the car. Sans moose.
Now... Imagine this brain trying to write songs. Scary thought. Right? Yet I'm no good at musical comedy.