my drunken whorish muse

Posted: January 3, 2016 in Uncategorized

My muse disappeared around November 2015 sometime. Not really sure of the exact date because the stupid thing doesn’t give notice, it just disappears while I sit looking at the blank computer screen.

Muses are those nymphs who give all creative people wonderful creative ideas. They influence all humans in so many different ways and I think we’re given one at birth, but that is just a guess.

But mine disappears randomly.

I wrote a letter to it on November 27, 2015.

Dear Muse,

I would have appreciated a text/email/phone call if you were going to take the holidays off. It would have saved me so much time not sitting in front of my blank puter screen.

Thinking we were a team was my fault and I apologize. But if you want to get paid in whatever fashion bitch muses get paid then I think I deserve a notice of time off instead of finding out you were AWOL.

Next time please leave a message after the beep, you soul eating, attention whore.

Sincerely,

Me, the forgotten and slightly pissed off writer.”

Of course I never received a reply. I never do. So this has inclined me to write about what, and what she looks like, a muse is to me.

My muse, when I think about her (yeah, I finally pinned down gender but I think she is fluid sexually, which has no more to do with gender than transgender has to do with sexuality) is female.

Now, what does she look like? I see a small, thin, rode hard and hung up wet creature with slightly bent moth wings from all the time she flies while under the influence. The wings are a light green, almost puke green, with an eye in the top corner. And yes, the edges are so raggedy  I’m surprised she can fly. Yes, my muse is a drunk. Go figure!

She has washed out blondishy hair, blue eyes with bags and dark circles under them, wrinklishy skin from all the heavy smoking, and she will flip you off in a heartbeat.

And very undependable! Oh, that part you might have figured out by now.

But when she is on the job I can get so creative the ideas and characters flow out of my mind through my fingers on the keyboard like an avalanche on a mountain. They just whoosh right on by and I barely have time to get them down before they disappear.

My muse may be back. May be, I say, because we don’t really have conversations. The way my muse works, and I don’t know how it works for other people, is that she nags me to frustration until I finally sit down and write something be it a quick note, a scene of action, or something of that nature. Sometimes I get real lucky and chapters just flow like water from a broken dam.

I don’t get to talk back to the muse except in loud rantings with much arm waving like some kind of mental patient off her drugs.

But I digress…

The muse may be back because Wednesday there was a lull at work and an idea just popped in my head out of nowhere. It may have been because I was thinking on how to catch a ghost for a chapter I’ve been considering, but….

BAM

Ideas started flowing a little bit. Well, more like jerkily flowing like a car that was going to die but really didn’t want to so it jerked a bit making godawful noises…yeah like that, um, except without the noise and the physical jerking.

So the bitch muse may be back but not completely. Probably recovering from her binge drinking and whoring.

You didn’t know that muses were alcholic sluts? Well, mine is…not that I have anything against drinking and sleeping around. Hey, if that’s your thing then go for it. I’m the last person to point fingers at anyone for anything.

My whiny complaint is that the bitch has not been around and I ain’t getting anything done. Who do I call about that, huh?

Muses are wonderful beings, when they are around, and once I get my writing fix of wonderful creative ideas written I feel sooo good. It’s like a drug. But, uh, a very legal one.

And without my muse I wouldn’t have written a word. So I guess I will put up with her ways and carry on like I have these many years. At least I do write. Sometimes!

 

 

 

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