Hole, Misfits, Beastie Boys, Ministry – loud, punk rockin’, industrial, screaming voices, guitars – outward expression of my inner doubts and misgivings; my anger and aspirations all wound tight and kept tucked away from inquiring eyes. I straddle hills, scramble over mountains, eat clouds and fall, tumbling into valleys until I can’t anymore.
Some days I’m like a dead battery. Other days I’m wired and in need of an electric charge. Credit in the Straight World, I want it and I don’t I think as fingers bang against keys … command tab, dictionary for the right word, command tab thesaurus searching for alternates.
And when I finish, when I can’t wring out another word, I open Notebook, to copy, paste and check my work, maintain that chronological list of blog posts, plan what’s next; by that time, the music is over and I am spent.