I don’t know what it is, but if my horoscope today (Friday that is – wait a minute – since when did I start believing those things – well since they started writing thing like these) writes a fine mist has settled over your brain and your thoughts are not clear than that is exactly what is wrong with me, and I am wondering who the hack told them.
Staring at the blank page before me. This song is incredibly silly but the lyrics are spot on.
I am unwritten, can’t read my mind, I’m undefined
I’m just beginning, the pen’s in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your innovations
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The somewhat weird picture that’s me in New York, laying on the ground in Central Park in the dark in the winter, daydreaming. Or night dreaming rather. Not-silly-at-all. I’m somehow thinking that that fine mist settled over my brain right there which makes New York a potential dangerous place to be. But I know that inspiration will come again eventually. Until then, I apologize for any inconvenience. And believe it or not, it is indeed still unwritten.
Is someone still reading all this crap?