streamofconsciousness

It's ridiculously late at night, but I feel like writing. I've been sitting here for hours, slowly ripping or burning or whatever my CDs into itunes and enjoying a sharp thinking blog. Channel [V] plays in the background, a pastiche of colour, movement and sound. It's the eve of my rest day and my brain unfurls. I love this time but am always left a little disappointed. Sometimes I go into the city on Saturday and wander around between errands or whatever I'm there for. Basically my brain/heart/spirit love being confronted by lots of stimuli. But I always want to respond with the same creativity I have observed, yet I never quite know what to do. I still have some small hope that I might one day learn to be a poet - so, I still have some small hope ;-). Tomorrow I'm off to see my dear friend Joan who knows about things like narrative and metre and may just understand the difficulty I have using creative expression I either do not feel or have not yet envisaged. For now there are girls in Alice in Wonderland costumes, cocktail bars and disapproving older men. I don't know what the song is because the TV's on mute. The last of my loud CDs is uploading. It's raining again and I'd better let in the cat.