Ode to my Imagination
My imagination runs like a dog on the beach, shnuffling his nose in the sand and coming up with twinkling eyes and a bad coat, sneezing like there's no tomorrow...
I write from my dreams...my dream last night invloved crawling through the swamp in the U.S.A, eventually finding a cave full of leather jackets and designer jeans...and a trunk full of money and bodies floating down the swamp, my family was the instigator,much better than the swamp people, the Irish...they rocked bullets and blew brains...
My mind takes me everywhere and nowhere, I have a dream journal that details everything I do from a gun fight in Japan, racing through bookshops whilst gangsters chase me, bullets pinging off steel bannisters as I slide down them, right down to my favourite dream where I walk through South America, thirsty and hungry, in a field of purple wheat, where myself and the former love of my life stop at an apple stand, and I ask...
"Why you buying apples for twenty euros?"
and she replies
"Cos I'm hungry!" as she munches on the apples....
I love the imagination, it's powerful and fruitful, it will love ya and leave ya, it's more powerful than any software available. My last story 'Forget Me Not', was a metaphor about losing someone, my buddy who died in a car crash and I still miss her...simple as....it's dedicated to her, how lives can be taken so young, but the imagination is as simple as that, I love it like the little scamp of a dog shnuffling his way along the beach and sneezing up sand, because it can sneeze up anything...the Imagination...love it...