robinbloke | Oct. 8th, 2004

Structure and predictability and a long way from the level that I think I'll ever be with my life and my mind. The random quirks and thoughts that flicker through occasionally. Or just when I suddenly stop and have this spark burning in the back of my mind, a flame of inspiration that I have to use and write down before it splutters and fades away.

I'm used to these, moments, I suppose, in a way they've been growing more prolific or at least I've been trying to use them more, cease them when they do appear and go with it. I've also been trying to see if I can invoke them, coax them out artificially. Now if I could just generate them with a snap of my fingers I don't think I would; part of their... charm? wonder? joy? is that I don't know when they will hit, what I can recognise now, however, is when they are rising up earlier or when one of them is about to try and seed itself in my mind.

When it does I try to encourage it, nurture and pull it out from the subconscious reserve of... whatever or wherever makes it and let it blossom in a whirlwind of randomness and creativity. Now I know I'm not creating the Sistine chapel when these moments flourish, but they are my moments and its the feeling of possibility that burns inside me when they are there that is as wonderful as the act and result of that creativity that is so special.

Thus it doesn't matter at the moment if I produce a poem that makes tears wet the cheeks of all who read it or a two page garbled morass of words and murmurings that put English grammar to the sword, it's still creativity, it's all from the moment - just the direction is different.
I think eventually I'd like to be able to direct them, point these moments at an idea or style when they arrive, but for now just the raw feeling of creativity is a feeling of being... alive more than warrants tarnishing it by trying to guide where it falls.