I'm trying to be creative, but it doesn't bear trying. Creativity sets its own stupid schedule. The concept of a fickle muse which comes and goes as she pleases is easy to sympathize with. The Greeks really hit the nail on the head with that one. When do ideas come to me? When I'm on the bus, in the shower, at a show - anywhere where I have no available means to record them. When is my brain a crusty barren desert? When I'm sitting in front of the computer, in the studio with the band, or pointing my pen at a staff. Thanks a lot, muse assholes.

For ideas to work, I have to go along with them as they come. If I TRY to have an idea, the effect is of pushing hardest against that which gives least. There just happens to be a brick wall EXACTLY where I want to go.

I accept that sometimes there's just nothing. I force acceptance of the brain's finicky little cycles and how there's a finite number of them before death and dismemberment. Good thing the rest of the body isn't such a prima donna. Get to Burger King and suddenly your mouth isn't there.

	NO SKILL brimstone, walk of fire, red zone beat your head down hard against the pavement girlfriend watching over ancients read my hands, watch, I blow myself away, yeah. (1001K mp3)