There is a certain relentlessness when the inspiration starts to flow. It’s a gift when they come, the ideas all at once, tumbling pell mell over each other so that they sometimes mix and collide, as I try desperately to follow, madly jotting thoughts down first on one page and then on the next. I feel like a mad scientist adding to this and that potion, watching the gases as they swirl, and trying to keep up in my notes; or a conductor trying to reign in instruments as they each go off on their own, in their own direction.
I am divided. I know the lines may not come again, or may be destroyed, dissipating into the atmosphere if I do not capture them, get them down in time. It is like grabbing at smoke, pulling tendrils of steam out of the air, only to open your hand and realize they have gone.
But I am also trying to take part in the rest of my life. How frustrating it must be to live beside such a mind. You can not do much but watch as I follow my thoughts down twisting and turning paths, trying not to to loose sight of them. I’ll be back when I’m done.
What about the thing I was doing, the conversation I was just having – where did it go? Where did I go? “Do you not hear me?”
I’m not sure where it’s gone, but please understand, I will come back to it in the end. I must first just jot this thing down over here. I won’t be long…