Ya Know What I Was Thinking?

Before You Iron Out That Wrinkle...

Things fall apart; the center does not hold.

What do I mean by that? I'm really not sure. Today has been a day of reflection...but I'm not sure what I see in the mirror. Is it the past? Is it the dirt under my nails? Is it the stains on the wall where I forgot to fix that hole in the roof?

I'm really not sure; but I know there's something off. Like the smallest corner of a photograph that is folded over. It has nothing to do with the picture, but once you notice it, you can't focus on anything else. So yeah, something's off; the center does not hold, the mirror is a spy.

How do I feel about that? Fantastic!!!

Scratching your head? Well don't dig too deep, people will think you have mange.

The reason I feel fantastic is that being slightly off is something all of us writers—all of us artists—have in common, that the world is at a perpetual cant to our perspective. How the hell do you write about a killer clown eating kids without your worldview being slightly skewed? How do you look ar war and find hope unless the mirror you shine back at the world is tainted with hope? How do you write Lord Jim without...well, bad example; all you need is some good brandy and a bag of Colombian Red for that.

So I look at the page and I see monsters and angels where other people see whiteness. I look at the horizon and I see the edge of a thousand other worlds than this one. I look inside my heart and see...well, we'll save that topic for another day.

What's the point of writing all this? For one thing, this is a collection of my thoughts, blurted out onto the screen for the sake of me writing something and you reading something. But there's a point to it that might actually make reading this valuable to you:

Take a closer look in your mirror. Gaze beyond the horizon and then look around at the world to which you've been transported. Look inside your heart and decide who you want to win—the angel or the demon. Always refuse to see the square that only has four sides; discard the blank page for one that is already smudged with an idea.

You don’t need me to tell you, but a reminder never hurts, I guess.

Stay tilted; remain canted. Embrace the misfit inside you for the artist that it is. Whatever else you may do, with all of what I've mentioned, for God's sake, my friend...

Write on!