leave your coat on the hatstand

So every now and then, you get that itch.

You want to write and condemn the world around you, litter it with fantastical phrase. Lock it in an airtight container and sell it on for some pretty penny. Or just walk away muttering like a disgruntled old man/woman. Either way you want to externalise it, throw it outside and mark the passage of its passing as if it ever had relevance.

You know when you have one of those eureka moments? When you stop and wish you could go-go gadget out a notebook and pen from some recess in your bellybutton, if not just to scrawl a single sentence upon it, and chances are by the next day it will make no sense anyway. I might go something like this:

ten tanks of fish, be by the kettle, oh, cats! cats! NO CATS!

...

yeah, just like that.

So surely we promise that if we could only capture these divine moments in prose, we could surely create an atomic reaction in the suburbia around us, truly tear the cobblestones from the earth and rain hail upon the lesser gifted few surrounding us. Yeah, but seriously, like we ever had a biro ready for that kind of epiphany. I bet being a genius would be a perpetual pain in the backbits, all that incoherent jam sludging away through your own skull and somehow being able to pick the seeds out and decipher it into that hideously expensive french conserve you can fin... wait, enough of this buggerboo,

nice to finally get here.