My brain is a prune. A shrivelled, wizened prune. Decimated by days of creative thought, it has been mummified and sundried, parched and desiccated. SCA has sucked all the juice from it, but I still need to give so much juice. I must crawl on my hands and feet in search of an oasis. An oasis that my brain can slurp from.

It seems this oasis already exists. A month before I started SCA I crafted an overly long list of words. Non-related, almost illiterate words. Some might grossly label it “word vomit”. But I think of it as so much more than that. So, so much more. I made it in the fear that I would suffer severe amnesia in the near future. My predictions were correct. Looking at it now, with all its strange associations, I wonder how I came up with half of it within the five minutes. Little Bo Peep? TERFS? So many nooks and crannies of thought. I don’t know how I did it. But this wonderous list, that is disguised as a bleurgh essay, helps me a lot. 

Looking at the ‘original’ manuscript now, it is very underwhelming. Such mediocre handwriting, such an anally perfect use of commas that I almost hate myself. But there is some magic in it. None of it is related, but altogether it makes perfect sense. I can use these miscellaneous thoughts to add a new trail of thought to ideas. To add Punch and Judy to a car campaign (probably not), or ‘gingers have no souls’ to a particular brand of biscuits. It helps me think zigzaggilly rather than straight up and down. It’s like a written kaleidoscope for my mind.  You may look at it and question my marvel. Skim it. Don’t actually read it. It’s all there, all your misshapen, shrunken weird thoughts. Or probably just a thimble of them. Let them in. Greet them. Give them a glass of sherry.

@laradavis0