From a post about mediocrity to a mediocre post

So tonight I had planned a post that might have actually been relatively great.

Might have.
Everything with this blog is “might have been” proposition.
You post something and you really have no idea how the hell it’s going to turn out.

Sometimes I’m so juiced up on an idea and I think I’m going to spin the most awesome shit. I’m going to spew some amazing kernels of golden wisdom right off my fingertips, for your reading disenjoyment. And the product which I finally produce is…crap. I end up writing something with no resemblance whatsoever to the ideas that were rattling around in my head all day long.

And let me tell ya…most of the stuff I post here during the week was actually born in the morning.

Morning is when my brain is in its prime functioning state.
The morning is when my creative juices are flowing, just like a teenaged boy’s juices flow in the morning, if you get my drift. However, due to the fact that, 1) I work, 2) I lift weights on Tuesday and Thursday, I rarely have enough time to hammer out any great essays in the morning.

The typical morning will see me wake up and suddenly get bombarded with blog ideas while I’m in the most inconvenient positions…showering, shaving, tying my shoes. And the idea is then condemned to serve behind my cerebral bars for the entire day. During the day, if I’m not preoccupied (which is actually quite often, especially when I’m on the clock), I will ruminate over an idea and refine it and prep it for the evening blog presentation.

Well today I thought of a subject near and dear to my heart.

I fucking thought about it all day long. At work, on the way home, at lunch, in the bathroom, I mentally composed and outlined a post about mediocrity.
Came home, cooked dinner, mediocrity still boiling away in my mind.
Then I killed it.
I got on a personal phone call which lasted one hour.
No phone call should last that long.

I lost it.
My flow was interrupted.
I went limp. No more steam.

It was too late, my mind will not create past a certain hour.
I am an early bird.
I don’t function well late.
No Goddamned way am I writing my treatise on mediocrity after that hour.

Mediocrity will have to wait another day.
Creative juices will need to be replenished overnight.

Tomorrow morning I will wake up with a symbolic creativity boner.
And by nighttime I will lose it again. I have to start writing by 8 or 8:30 if I am to bring my idea, my post, to fruition. Creative orgasm, baby.

You know, the creative process is like sex, reallly.

You gotta coax the idea right out of your skull. You have to toy with your imagination; you need to rub it and caress it and get that idea, that concept, to grow, to swell, until it can no longer be contained and in a visceral frenzy, you sit at the your computer and let the relief, the delight, flow out of your fingers in one long, blog-orgasm, a well-thought out post, or at least what pretends to be.