over the lens of my mind.
I forgot what brilliance feels like…
But then a star bent low and brushed my cheek with its fiery whisper, reminding me of its precise combination of exhilaration and steadiness.
That is to be taken literally: I do not mean to imply that I have found my own inner brilliance, for I have not.
My cheek is scorched, but my heart is light.
My mind is still sludge, my synapses misfiring, my thoughts hiding under the rock which now occupies my head.
I will pray to my musical gods, Jimmy and Robert, for some guidance.
I have a brilliant movie to write about, and no words which will convey.
I believe this is what they call paralyzed with fear.
Whatever.
I am foolish to waste my evening baking a cake, when I should have been plunging a ladle into my soupy head to fish out the best shreds…..
I am so very lazy that I am writing a post HERE*. I would ask you to post it for me if I
Something.
Am I going crazy?
The worn, cobble-stoned pathways in my brain that have been so familiar in their winding and twisting have suddenly changed to wide, paved roads—busy with foreign traffic.
I cannot dwell on this because it will engulf me—no, drown me
Pressing me downward, under the surging waves of fear of losing myself.
Why so much fear?
Because to write…the best words, I must balance on the verge of mania.
Sometimes staring into the wormhole is enough to turn my own thoughts into psychedelic something or other.
Can’t ever think of words anymore.
* this began as an email
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