the idea is that you keep writing long enough. no matter what clap trap it is and something genius pops thorugh. wrong. i've been writing a lot of crap for a long time now and . . . nada. i don't feel like inspiration comes any more or less often. i have had a poem brewing just beneath the surface about the nature of death and love; destiny and free will but it won't come. maybe it's too big. or maybe the muse is gone. either way - so far over half way in - experiment awry. but what do i know.
anyway, this is not to take the place of today's albatross - er, i mean blog. but going to bed at 9.30 meant i was up at 3.30. le sigh.
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