A touch of fractured whim to hold me until the boredom sets in….
Maybe its the way my brain always seems to spin on the edge of control, held by the loose grip of sane reason. I think I’ve become a firm believer in the adage that to be an artist one must be insane, which frankly doesn’t really hold much weight if you don’t consider that pain and stark perceptions bred the likes of Shelley, Wilde, Wolfe and Hemmingway. Ill throw Plath in there as well for kicks. Sometimes I wonder if ita hereditary or if I’ve invented it on my own. Does my turn of phrase, the ability I have to create a whole world in the space of ten minutes really mean I can’t truly connect with the reality outside? This ongoing debate iz the subject for thisblog, my creative output for ideas and concepts that spin in my mind so frantically they’ve created their own version of ADD.