Spark

My face is ridiculously dry. This is what The Mummy must feel like on days when his face is ridiculously dry.

Yes, I have a hard-on. No, I'm not telling you where I got it from.

I would very much like to urinate, but my bladder seems to be set on selfish. It's its urine and it's keeping it all to itself.

I'm feeling a bit silly today. Maybe it's the lack of sleep. Maybe it's the fact that the sun is shining. Most likely it's the lack of sleep.

So I started re-reading Frank Miller's Sin City comics (excuse me, "Graphic Novels") the other day because I was ridiculously excited about the movie coming out tomorrow (it will be the only movie besides The Phantom of the Opera that I've seen in a theater in quite awhile). I'd forgotten how great the comics were, about how they got my senses all fired up. And as I was reading them I found a lot of my old ideas coming back to me, a lot of the old stories I never got to tell. They were bringing back my creativity. Then the other night when I couldn't sleep I decided to hook up my DVD player and watch some movies. All I've been doing is reading lately, and as much as I love books, if all you do is read eventually all your imagination is wasted conjuring up other people's images. With movies (and comics) they image is there for you, you have more time to concentrate on your own images. Your own stories.

So a few days into this bender I haven't written down a single thing, but I don't really need to. It's all up there, and it's not going anywhere until I see fit to move it. The ideas are growing, feeding off the images being plugged in there, for the first time in a long time they are progressing.

I can hear the footsteps again, I can see the light bend. It's all coming back to me.

Left foot first...now walk.