Finger Fun

You've heard the expression he or she has his or her head up his or her _____. I wouldn't normally tenderize the expression but in its full force impact, it would have no bearing on what I'm going to write about. I just wanted a comparison because I want to discuss having my head in my fingers. I could sit around all day and not have one thought make its way from my cerebrum to any meaningful human expression. But put my fingers on a keyboard and out something comes. I don't know what that's all about except that I've always loved to write. I have to believe that a kickboxer's head is in his toes, a birdwatchers must be in his cornea, a sumo wrestler's in his belly, etc, etal, ad infinitum. One thing I believe we all have in common is that if the accepted appendage or linkage isn't hooked up to the cortex something like this comes out. The birdwatcher  hallucinates he's riding on the back of a giant Pteradactyl, the sumo wrestler starts dancing swan lake, and my fingers start producing drivel. If this turns into something meaningful it will be a miracle, but these digits will produce no matter what. I remember someone interviewing Charles Osgood about his daily radio posey. "How can you be so creative day in and day out?"  I think his response was something like, " Have you listened closely? Somedays you just get it done. It's not good at all."  On those days the rhyme and meter are there, the alliteration is selective and crisp, the assonance is soft, but the lucidity, the depth of field, the logistical path are all lying dormant. They are at this juncture resting, while in my case the fingers move on. There was a genre of writers , stream of consciousness blokes, who conned us into thinking this disguised verbosity was going somewhere. And we rewarded them with literary praise and prize. But do me a favor here if you are still along for the ride. Just kick yourself back into reality and suffer some level of guilt that you've gone along this far on this bizarre journey. But do come back.  I promise to return to the planet with renewed energy and a sense of purpose, soon. It could be worse. These could be idle hands...and aren't they the tools of the devil or something like that. I'll ask my brain tommorrow. Thanks for stopping by.     (Why Prokofiev? Why not?)