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Oh, and there we were all in one place, a generation lost in space with no time left to start again.
So come on, Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack Flash sat on a candlestick 'cause fire is the devil's only friend.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage my hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in Hell could break that Satan's spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite,
I saw Satan laughing with delight, the day the music died.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Because I'm Told to Do So

In the comments on another post I talked about the Muse being slightly upset with me. I must have been a good boy because she just dropped an interesting story bone in my head. Yes. Dark, foreboding, like that dream where you're trying to get someplace and just can't seem to get there. All of it. He he he. Yes, my darling, I'm listening, it is written down. From the ash bed stirs the flame waiting for tinder to ignite.


Todd Wheeler said...

Nice muse. If she starts writing honey-do lists though ... Just saying, stay away from the DIY home centers. ;-)

Steve Buchheit said...

She does that as well. Oh, wait, that's my wife whispering in my ear while I'm asleep. :)

The only "honey-do"s the muse give me are, "Why the (explicative) aren't your writing this story." And then the guilt trip starts. The huffing, the toe tapping, the stares, all until I get it out on paper.