Brain Jam

there are times when i sit in a stu­por at one of my mind­less col­le­giate sources of em­ploy­ment and think about com­mu­ni­ca­tion. i think much bet­ter than i speak. of­times i will think of a very well formed idea and then when i at­tempt to put it down i’m like char­lie brown try­ing to write his name; every­thing comes out smudged be­yond re­pair, and the hard­er i try the worse it be­comes. some­things just can­not be forced. last night af­ter work was one of the rare times when some­thing i thought of ac­tu­al­ly turned out bet­ter than i imag­ined. as i left work in­to the pleas­ant night air, off in the dis­tance there was a flash of light­ning and a low rum­ble of thun­der and in­to my mind popped the phrase ‘feed me thun­der.’ when i got back to my room i start­ed with that line and kept writ­ing. what it turned in­to was an open­ing ad­mo­ni­tion for a book of spells. i guess it is pret­ty use­less in the man­ner of ac­tu­al­ly of­fer­ing some­one an in­sight on life, but it has a ris­ing tem­po in its progress that kin­da grabs you. i think if i ever send in some stuff to a pub­lish­er, that will be the first thing in the book i’ll want him to read. its a warn­ing, a sign of cri­sis, but al­so a hint that if care is tak­en, un­der­stand­ing will be giv­en. i guess in a way, po­ems are spells be­cause of the way the ex­act mix­ture of in­gre­di­ents (words) can pro­duce some­thing with much pow­er.

per­chance this mus­ing acts as an ap­pen­dix to the po­em, or a cliff’s notes, ex­plain­ing in­tent in case the spell is im­mune to some peo­ple.