Flying is a great opportunity to think. I think. Nope it's not! Crap, what's going on.
The freedom and space to think can completely blow my head to pieces - release from insane schedules and pressure cooker thinking now becomes a hurdle. Great. Thanks. Right now thinking is the hardest thing to do. Am I even awake to what's going on.
Thought seems to demand me to scan an infinite universe of conundrums while harvesting conflicting implausibilities. And that is when I can even latch onto something. That’s not often. Each useless fragment taunts me with violent shrugs of utter contempt. I know where writers block lives. Possibly even the precise cave. Anything of any value guarded by fogged out sprites - lurking like some ferral pimpernels in the inner walls of my mind.
Vapour thin cloths hanging, messed up bits of something dart for a second with the thought seductively exposed and then gone. A second earlier I'd projected the diabolical ideas that were mine alone. I thought. Now lost.
I start giving in to the more easy to catch mediocre notions. I capture and commit to my selection of meaningless junk. Then tear them off the big screen that suddenly assembled with the rush of a jet plane. Fooling me into thinking that I'm thinking. It's like slashing at the neck of an infinite snake to finally pull something lucid into the real world of my real world.
What's so bloody annoying is that I know the better stuff is in my fucking head - I am just bloody useless at trapping.
Now look.
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