“Oh Good God! Lance is posting yet more ‘driveling-snivelings’ about writers, writing, and his writing travails! He wears me out!”
“Well, you may thank Mister Ohh over at His Place for prompting me to resurrect this long since dead post on the subject. Have a pleasant journey and be sure to give him my best regards while you are there. Ohh! (See what I just did there?) Oh btw, the password is “Mo’ Sent me.” ‘Mo, being shorthand for ‘Moron.’ Gawd! I crack me up! Ha. Ha. Ha.
The Angry Mab
“I dreamt a dream tonight.”
“And so did I.”
“Well, what was yours?”
“That dreamer’s often lie.”
“…In bed asleep while they do dream things true!”
“Oh! Then I see Queen Mab hath been with you!”
–R&M: Romeo and Mercutio
“Peace, Good Mercutio. Peace. Thou talks of nothing. Thou talkst of nothing.”
“True. True. I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain. Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, which is as thin of substance as the air and more inconstant than the wind who woes even now the frozen bosom of the north, and being angered puffs away from thence, turning his side to the dew-dropping south.”
Thou Talkst of Nothing
After a night of hard blogging and writing of drafts, and becoming somewhat disillusioned and more than daft, I perished toward my bed, reaching out for the Arms of Morpheus.
Within moments I slipped into that Hypnagogic Sleep, that strange place between two worlds, that semi-conscious state of being, yet not being,
Salvador Dali 1928
Sleep, but Not Sleep.
Then I began to dream things that should have been true.
But were not true
Yet so true.
Wonderful words words words!
Words to sate my unnourished prose.
Words swirl’d about in my mind like so many fireflies on a summer’s eve:
“Words, words, words!. Once, I had the gift. I could make love out of words as a potter makes cups of clay. Love that overthrows empires. Love that binds two hearts together, come hellfire & brimstone.”
— “Will Shakespeare in Love”
I had it (them, those) words… goin’ on.
Brilliant words. Beautiful, poignant words! All right there!
Right there In My Mind
Hovering, floating just above the surface
I reached out my finger to tap the “Publish Mouse”
My finger was frozen
It would not move
How hard I did try!
It would not comply!
I lay there in Nether Sleep,
The hand, one digit, just the finger!
Just move the damn finger!
Then I realized
“I am with Dante now”
And he mocked me
“Here are the words you seek”
But I Did Not want to be with Dante.
I wanted to be with my Lost Muse.
Y’all remember her:
The Abusive One.