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I’m sat here keyboard and fingers ready, wondering what splattering of text, what wing-flapping emergence of letters will break through, and all i seem to hear in my knotted web of a mind are song lyrics. Its oddly pleasent for these wee snippets to roll in and out and lap gently across (many may snigger at the term) my rational mind. “The strangest life i have ever known” thank you Mr Morrison. “I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul’ thank you Mr Yorke. ‘Went out walking through the woods the other day’ thank you Mr Jagger. They pop and steam and bubble to the surface and gently sink rolling and tumbling back down. I try to force coherent sparks through this mealy soup, to find a purposeful idea or thought or impulse, but up they swim (‘I close my eyes, draw back the curtain’ thank you(?) whoever you are) crashing plundering through. “Its a wonder i can think at all” thank you Mr Simon.

It surely is, a wonder i can think at all. Coz i aint even got round to the snippets of conversation, faces, lists, plans, ideas, sights and sounds and strokes and sly little saddnesses that creep and bubble and float and stream and squeeze up through. It truley is amazing that any of us can hold our ‘fragile egg shell mind(s)’ (thank you again Mr Morrison) together at all. Ah fuck it. I shall just start my day.

Ob-la-di ob-la-da.

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