January 14, 2007 at 6:28 AMFor reasons as obscure as those that govern fluky weather patterns, words have begun to float liberally from my mouth lately--toward the coffee shop barista, my parents, my stand partner, or any hapless victim close enough to catch a peppering of my thoughts. It goes on and on, this loquacious spiel, fueled by an unusual need to share, verbatim, all the contents in my head.
I’m tuning my brain to various cosmic radio stations. With ten thousand antennas pointed every direction, grasping into the current, I latch onto and pull out every random association I can capture. I talk about connections, about colors, shapes, and patterns. I’m fascinated by movement, repetition, and recurrent themes. See how they interconnect? Art, nature, math, science, and music, they are all just one subject taking various forms, each of which I love to discuss.
Since there will be no answer to the question “Why” the sudden surge of discourse, I am left to ponder “For what purpose?” I feel as though I’m cresting the apex of a creative wave or something. I’m assimilating the next big idea, shuffling the scrabble tiles, rearranging the numbers. It’s trickling down to the tips of my fingers; now it’s on the tip of my tongue. The image is coming into focus, its scent riding the air. I’m listening, intuitively, all six senses straining. Where is it? What is it?
And all these thoughts keep coming right out of my mouth--every imagery and observation--until I’m physically cupping my hand across my moving lips to silence them. After all, there are appropriate times and places for such mental maelstrom. Orchestra rehearsal is not one of those.
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