Jibber-jabber

I'm in a reading phase. In fact, I've read two books in the past week. It's the first time I've accomplished that feat in quite a while. I've found that reading inspires my creative juices. I lay in the bathtub, read some piece of shit novel, and think, 'I can do this. It's not that hard. This author sucks.' It inspires me to drag my sopping wet ass (literally) over to the seat of my recliner, plop down and plop out some poopy (not literally). After a solid twenty minutes of writing -- if I'm lucky enough to momentarily defeat pessimism and get that far -- after about three-hundred words tippity-typed on the ole word processor, I make the fatal mistake and re-read the two or three paragraphs I've penned thus far.

Then I stop, collaborate, and listen. Ice is back with my brand new invention. Something, grabs a hold of me tightly. Flow like a harpoon, daily and nightly. Will it ever stop? Yo, I don't know. Turn off the lights, and I'll glow. To the extreme, I rock the mic like a vandal, light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle.

Oops, sorry. That's not what happens exactly, but close enough. I do stop, though. The only time I really ever let myself just write without giving into Senor Negativity (that lazy Mexican bastard) was a few years ago when I took a semester off college. I was naive enough to believe I could improve by just writing for three months straight. Okay, I did improve, but being proud of that is like being proud of moving up from the bench to the starting lineup of a single-A farm team...of the Milwaukee Brewers.

All right, enough jibber-jabber for now.