As I have said before, this blog is a collection of my thoughts in word form. I can't ask thoughts to stay in my head or else I'd have a massive implosion of information the size of an atomic bomb in the middle of one of this planet's most populated cities. I also can't rely on thoughts to come at me at normal intervals like, say, colors of the rainbow or drops from the end of an icicle. Thoughts just don't do it.
Neither do words, to see more in formation on THAT topic, see my previous post @blogpost.
Thoughts can come at me anywhere, anytime. They can come at me on the train. They can come at me on the toilet. They can come at me in the middle of a swamp in the middle of a jungle in the middle of a country that you can't quite seem to remember the name of but it doesn't matter because I'm only there to incite a revolution and I'm leaving that shithole of a country in four hours.
Thoughts can come at me in any sort of interval that they like; galloping, galavanting, glooping, gloping. They can hit you much like what Emininem akined the nature of fame itself: a ton of bricks. They can hit me like the cascading torrents of a waterfall atop a lonely swimmer in the furthest reaches of the Amazon. They can hit me like a sudden and random urge to urinate five times in a single night and absolutely none the night next.
I can't put a stopper on creativity, or thoughts, or words.
More often, thoughts might not come to me at all. I sit patiently in my mind shelf, waiting for files to get sorted and put onto the shelf like they normally do, but nothing happens. Which is a really crappy feeling but I don't drown myself in a pool of my own tears - writer's block is a normal part of the author's struggle for identity.
Why do I not post regularly? Well, my dear fellow, my thoughts are definitely not regular.
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