Passing thoughts
It’s a beautiful evening. The torrential downpour is over and a slow gentle wind wafts scents of wet roads and fresh air perfumed by happy flowers.
The stillness after the storm was wanting to be filled with music. I grabbed my guitar with intent to maim a few old tunes on a cheap instrument, when the compulsion to sit down and produce literary diarrhea came upon me.
Staring at the blank page doesn’t help . No orgasm of verbal enlightenment. No pouring out of inner angst. Just words strung together.
” I grabbed my guitar with intent to maim a few old tunes on a cheap instrument, when the compulsion to sit down and produce literary diarrhea came upon me.”
I thought that you were going to tell us that you wrote a song!
That would be cool!
I have written a couple and no I can’t perform them.
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww not even if Kathy and I really ask nicely?
But you could share the lyrics with us!
Pretty please with sugar on top!
sorry this old man can not play well anymore bad fingers and old joints so no can do