I'm finally back typing in this box under this name of talkingstones. Feels normal and swell to be back. My finger tips are covered in ranging mountains of paint (dried of course). Honest to god forgot what I pulled this blog up to write about. That kills me.
All I know is I have a yearn to write. No fright. Just delight. Not a friend in sight. Little poety wave for you there. Oui la la. I've been in the creative "zone". More like a mist of air. My imagination keeps pulling me towards old canvas', open notebooks, and guitars in coffee shops. My feet tap to a tune my consciousness fondly grins along to; a tune of harmony. Here's to maybe remembering what I meant to write about in the first place. It would NOT be in inverted pyrmaid. One day it might. My writing may be on paper or online for an Advertising company's profit. My imagination will be my mover. I imagine my imagination taking my human body where it shall go. For now, it sits here. On my basement carpet. Belly fulla half a pulled bbq pork sandwhich. Want more. Get more.
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November 2020
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