Other times

I always think back, at moments like this, to the scene in Madmen, when the guy with the beard & the pipe has a schmoke in the office, and as a result has the best creative idea of his career, only to forget to write it down, and then to completely forget the idea, by the time Don Draper arrives.

I also love the way Draper immediately sympathises, saying he hates the times that same thing has happened to him.

The dreadful setup of the blogger app has plagued me with several crucial instances, in which I've found myself doing the self same thing - pouring out my heart, upon the page, only to change apps & to return to find no trace of the golden work.

The interaction, of late, is between the hardware - my #Samsung #s4 - always - the main faithful piece of equipment since the worldwide letdown of the whole world by Blackberry following their overselling of the replacement Bold handset, which was simply unable to take the beating from my thumbs.

When the #Blackberry network collapsed one week, I desperately defected to android - with the help & influence of the one known as Barticus, who'd recently acquired his own S4.

Another, old friend from New Zealand introduced me to the all new technological concept of swyping, not typing, and my life & writing changed forever, once again.

I stayed with my S4, because it was not only fit for purpose, but also permitted me to remove my own battery in order to fight inevitable, lithium degradation.

Everytime the charge starts to fail, I just send off again for a couple of new batteries & all's right with the world. And, so, the flow just keeps on.

How to be an Artist's #muse - 002 : excuses

Never use the #artist as the excuse to make major life changes. The artist is an individual, by definition. He doesn't need your baggage too.

This scarred & creatively desperate vessel has enough suffering in his own head & heart, for the whole of humanity.

So, take care, when burdening him by making him the excuse for your own lack of courage to bail yourself out of the darkest of your life-mistakes.

Always apologise

When we, inevitably, apologise,
Then we, also, realise,
That the battle, isn't, won,
The harm, is not, undone.
The love, we're shown,
Is not enough,
Appreciation, just a bluff,
To get, just, what they want,
It's about, whatever, they want.

Smoke and mirrors,
Jokes, and shivers,
Worlds of need,
We're born, to please.
As in our hearts,
Our inward parts,
We give, and then, they leave.

We meet, regret,
With what, they get,
They push, we gush,
We aim, to please,
They play, we meet,
With tender bush,
The sweetest, aromatic kush
They take, and then they leave.

We sit, and wonder,
what we did,
As lies, that fly,
Their new disguise,
As they remain,
All clear, and wise,
But never see, their part,
Nor their, corrupted, heart.

We ought to wave,
As they pass by,
We know, we're used,
We see the sky,
And know, that
nothing, really changed,
Life goes on, our purpose, strange,
The world, is just deranged.

I want to blame,
All those who take,
And make, our minds,
And bodies break,
And world, and family,
Threaten, take,
And use, for what they want.

Of only, just to find the muse,
In all who talk, and take, and use,
Those, who fake, & just confuse,
Then leave, & just move on.
They leave, and just move on.

We're left, their words, are in my head,
But I, just might as well, be dead,
But I am not, my family, true,
Is still for me, and not, for you.