Creativity

*Ahem*

Ok, ok, stop laughing already. This is a serious tweak, dammit! Don’t you care about the plasticity of your brain, expanding your creativity, and so on? Oh fine. Keep giggling if you must.

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Writing for MindTweaks is an exercise in staying focused, on track, on  topic and targeted.  I know, I know…  MindTweaks  may not *seem* particularly focused, but in the great creative chaos that is my life, this blog stands out as a beacon of consistency and order. (scary, isn’t it?)

Still every once in a while, I need to indulge in a bit of writer-ly spring-break madness, let my hair down and spew out free-form insanity. 

It may not be spring, but I need a bit of madness this week - and lucky you! I’m willing to share.  So without further ado, I present my notes for the Next Big Hit!

It’s a novel.
It’s a movie.
It’s a hit album.
It’s an uber-moralizing-epic-eco-horror tale.
It’s…

Volcano Virus!!!!

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Tell people you’re an artist, and their first response is usually "I can’t draw so much as a straight line!"  Well, you know…  I can’t draw a straight line, either.  I’ve got dreadful hand/eye coordination, and slightly shakey hands, so the pencil pretty much wavers all over the place.

Yet, I can do  this:

Straight lines are important to engineering, but not art. So what is it that makes the difference between someone who can produce a passable sketch, and the "I can’t draw a straight line!" protestors?

Artists know how
to "see" the world around them. 

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The Brain is wider than the Sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.

The brain is deeper than the sea,
For, hold them, blue to blue,
The one the other will absorb,
As sponges, buckets do.

The brain is just the weight of God,
For, lift them, pound for pound,
And they will differ, if they do,
As syllable from sound.

-Emily Dickinson
Complete Poems. 1924.

Remember this Week’s Tweak?
You only *thought* the exercise was silly.
… you hadn’t yet seen my results!

<Clears throat for dramatic reading>

AHEM.

There was a little mouse,
Who had a little house
He ate a lot of corn,
And watched a lot of porn.

But then he tired of rhyme
And quite forgot the time
Ran up the famous clock,
Hickory Dickory Dock

He still did not go blind!
(though the porn was on his mind)
The old wives tale was false
And he remained the boss.
‘Cause rolling mice gather no moss!

Cute Ears.
No Tears.
More Cheese,
Please.

(are we amused?)