Wednesday, July 31


I wonder why some of our greatest, creative ideas come to us when we are jittery on very little sleep, or when we are incredibly sunk in dreamland.  I don't understand why I think with the most color, right on the cusp of fatigue.  As the clock ticks, layers of my brain are shaved away like clay, exposing some sort of secret rare inventiveness.  But then I wake in the morning to encounter what I've written, painted, created (even if just in my mind while I stared into the dark) the night before, I will without a doubt justify my 1AM intentions to be illogical or too weird.   I wake up, and I'm a refreshed as a culminated adult, viewing the world through sterile, filtered judgement.  How many of my ideas or dreams have escaped through the cracks of consciousness and sleep, I wonder.    

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