Brain Dump

My current boss (I rotate between agencies, trying new bosses like fad diets, when perhaps what I really need are bigger stretchier pants....) told me that his wife wakes up every morning and writes 4 pages direct from brain to paper. Longhand.  No editing, no thinking about what she's going to write, just free form pen jabbering.  A "brain dump" he called it. 

"It's supposed to enhance your creativity." He shrugged, "According to some book she's reading..." 

"What about drugs?" I asked, forgetting for a moment who I was talking to. "I mean, I hope she doesn't try drugs! Those...uh...books can lead to all sorts of crazy experimenting...."

So, I figured, what the hell. I'll try anything once; as long as it doesn't feature drain cleaner or accepting anything as my personal savior...  Or wearing shoes with buckles.  Or goat fluids.  But writing 4 pages each day? Why not?  It would be liberating to just concentrate on the the act and not the content.

Only not long hand. And no way 4 pages. That's too much.  I need to be able to mull things over and edit. Rewrite. Stare at the screen and barely eek out one page. PAINFULLY. SLOWLY...Jesus, why doesn't she try drugs.

Yesterday marked my second day of running this week.  Thru a herd of cows. I hate this time of year on the trails with sheep and cows. My dogs love to roll in cow shit, and eat sheep shit.  By far, the sheep are the bigger catastrophe; they come accessorized with those fucking Great Pyranee dogs, who would probably rip my dogs apart if we got close to their sheep.  It doesn't help that I've been taking Zeke to stock herding training lately.  So, sheep are like his thing.  His hobby. Pez dispensers that make you work for it.

Cienna flys in at 2. Carlos turns 15 tomorrow.  Why don't I just wrap this up with a Haiku? That's worth about 3.5 pages:

I like my words like

I like my people - put down

on paper. Later.