Have to Write


Willie

Strictly Me Killing 2 Birds with a Picture of the Perpetually Stoned One

I’ve learned a trick or two about shoving my creativity out of the shadows, learned how to dismiss labeling laziness as writer’s block. Sometimes I get on these planes, okay, lower myself onto less clever ones, where I don’t need to be so over the top cryptic, where I don’t have to be so profound. I’m hardly infamous, let alone famous, but more than a few times I’ve heard requests to entertain with a laugh, or inspire with some life lesson. Sometimes though, I have nothing. I want to sit down, shed my responsibilities like my clothes on a Tinder date, and veg out watching Ancient Aliens or some such frivolous show that adds absolutely zero to my intelligence, the boob tube was labeled such long before cable…let that marinate.

That said, perhaps I put a picture of Willie Nelson playing cards to tell you the time when maybe he connected with the ancient cosmonauts through a special strain of pot they left his forefathers.Similar to peyote and other shaman-esque herbs, this particular strain of marijuana causes Willie to enter a deep trance, where he can travel space and time to communicate with great minds of the past. Ironically, the portal of metaphysical travel opens only on April 15th annually.

When not transcending space and time, Willie and I get together to play some Texas Hold ‘Em. Sometimes we watch documentaries, but really none of this matters because this is just an exercise in getting the fingers and brain a wake up call,because I need to write for a living, and know aimless thoughts about a random picture on Google force a story, so now I can call this educational.

Still I am granted this wonderful opportunity, and I don’t trust my ability, not a perfectionist or anything, am I finding the right words, stringing them together in a concise, yet ambiguous way? Ok, what I come up with is never good enough, I struggle to illuminate an emotion in print, describe a feeling of festering pain rotting in a place I can’t reach to leech.

Old time charlatan cures passed on for free since the patents long since expired, pretty much like the story I was going to spin about Willie going all in with a 4, 9 off suit, but this really has served its purpose, possibly. I needed more characters, more explanation as to who Angie was and why she stabbed the old man in the palm with an ice pick when he tried to gather his winnings, which in reality turned out to be anything but, since he got a nasty infection and I am all out of this:

dsgsdgsdf

Talk about a picture being worth a thousand words…

I’m thinking ‘and’ would have been a better conjunction, so no decisions need made. “Make me a bust cream and jelly sandwich please,”or there’s always the bedroom…

Time to get to work.

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