My mind is expanding. Inflating. Allowing new thoughts, feelings, dialogues to grow and blossom like a pubescent girl in her first training bra. Some thoughts are just out of reach. Tantalizing and stretching my fingertips. Making me wish I did more yoga. Other ideas are graspable. Making my hands sticky with ideas. The kind of sticky I can’t and don’t want to wash off. Honey comb. Sugar cane. Cotton candy. Coagulated together. Cover my body. Dip me in a gooey vat of knowledge.
PS… Like every other writer (actor, director, creative, waitress, bartender, person with stars in their eyes), I have taken to writing a screenplay. Joined the storytelling masses. Put dialogue to computer screen. Started dreams into lubricated motion. But don’t tell anyone. Wouldn’t want to jinx myself.