Lately I have been letting writing ideas slip through my fingers.
They come whenever they feel like it. Little phrases, flashes of ideas, seeds of possibilities, but so many times I am driving in the car, or doing some activity that is taking ALL my energy and attention. I don't have paper handy, or hands free to grab them and put them in a place I can come back to later. It's getting to be a real nightmare. (As a writer that is)
Maybe it's the time of year, maybe it's the state of the world, maybe it's my "teetering on the brink of menopause" psyche, but I am more than a 'bisl Farmisht'. (A little dizzy, confused, dopey, punchy.... dysfunctional according to the Yiddish dictionary.)
I need air. I need clean, cool, fresh wind blowing in my face. Enough to sweep away the darkness and give me room to think, to draw breath without the shoulder hunching, back muscle crunching, forehead scrinching tension that never seems to leave these days.
. . .I think I need to do something silly.
Not as silly as Tilly.
But pretty silly.
Sigh.
(I'm feeling a bisl sick in da kishkes* myself)
[album 65561 GoofyHen2.JPG]
"I didn't know there was a foreign language requirement for this weekly gig.
I think I'm going to need more money. . .
ANYWAY, I don't approve of silly.
*Someone* has to remain
level headed. ...
OH! That's my cue.
'I will!' said the Little Red Hen."
*a little sick in the guts