RIGHT NOW IS THE TIME TO WRITE NOW

***Writing from the "Daily Random" series I have been doing. This one dated and timed 2-25-14/2:34 a.m. est



Late at night, only minutes until my head hits the dirty pillow, is probably not the best time to contemplate writing something.




Let alone actually writing something.




It seems wrong
and yet
these previous days
it has been so right.




Write, rather.




I love writing. I live to write. It's the one thing that instantly springs to mind that I know I'm good at. Writing comes as natural to me as breathing might come to others. No matter how it comes, all that matters is that come it does.



I get ideas and I write them. Simple enough.




There are other times when I just feel words building up inside of me so rapidly it is as if they are gaseous and threaten to blow my top unless I turn the nozzle and bleed them accordingly. Sounds painful, no?




... And even still, there have been many times when I just sit down and have absolutely nothing in my head what so ever and wind up writing anyway. Times like late at night when I am counting the minutes until my head hits the dirty pillow.



Times like right now.




In this case, for no other reason than I can, I decide to write. Now.




It's beautiful, this gift of gab.


I am truly in love with writing. I love everything about it. I love the before, during and after. The precious giving of thoughts and words. Each word is like a gift to be given where once-
only moments ago-
there was none to be found.




The brain tingles.



The fingers move.




Before we know it, magic has been made.




The whole concept, as well as the actions of such magic itself, can be comforting on levels that transcend height.



It's like we're building something in the mind and the limits....
well, there are no limits.



Not the brain. Not the skull. Not the fleshy mask that wraps around the brain and skull.




Hell, when one begins to write even the sky stands down its majesty.



Creative thought, and the resulting words that flow, laugh at the sky and then just keep on going.



That is, until we, the writers, decide that it needs to stop.




Like a river that flows at our command.
A rocket ship that penetrates the clouds on its way towards the stars.
Fuck that. We past the stars if we want.
There is nothing stopping us.
Except.... Us.



We're on a journey that lasts as long as we want it to last.



A few seconds and we could be over and out.


We might keep on keeping on until some sort of bleeding has transpired.



Maybe we'll find ourselves paving roads that were never afforded previous existence. Cool.




Going, going, going and.....
Oh, look. We have managed to  piss off the energizer bunny.
Why?
Because we go and we go.




But we're never gone.




The words are our epitaph. The energizer bunny rocks and rolls and poops and fucks until they run out of batteries and then....



they get new batteries and just wind up doing the same shit all over again again.



But writers?




We purge our souls until the very end of days and nights and when we decide to throw in the towel we toss off the light and then.....


we do it all over again again.
But different each time.
It's magic and every trick is unique in its performance.



Such are the politics of writing. The only type of politics that don't give me a headache or the shits.



I love writing. Have I said that already?



I love this journey that my brain and fingers and very soul have embarked on. It's a journey of epic proportions and the most intense beauty made simple all by the clicking of my fingers.



Tap-tap-tap




aaaaaaaand we're off into the wild blue yonder.



When it's time to rest our head, it might seem like the journey comes to an end. But we're only pulling over at the rest stop to take a sabbatical.


We're having a moment.


Because when it's time to get back on that road and cuddle up to the stars all over again we're off and running.




Creativity is like a great beast that rules the roost.



A car on the highway of existence with an endless supply of life's blood in our gas tank.



We ride and we ride some more and even though sometimes it might seem like we're coasting on fumes we just scramble ourselves together and continue to spit words out even if our teeth find themselves becoming clenched shut.



Ultimately inspiration is our fuel and inspiration can be found in every single grain of existence or crevice in the galaxy.



Fumes and muses aside-



this beast runs on legs of steel and knows nothing but that it will survive because indeed this beast called creativity possesses the ultimate will to survive.



A will that is second to none and exists only because of this one simple equation-
Words have been written.



It's bedtime now. But the journey shall resume when my soul powers up its energy and spits forth another clump of words.




Until then, know that while I sleep there are others out there and these others are writing too.


A writers flame is never smoldering. We burn bright and we burn forever because as long as there are in fact others out there writing, we continue to pass the torch.