Mis-using words - delete

I can not keep up with the voice in my head telling me to write. So many things I have lost. Ah poor me. Oh, to relive the joy of a child greeting each day; eagerly anticipating all the adventures and discoveries possible in that brilliant time beginning at sunrise and ending lying restlessly in bed impatient for tomorrow's sunrise. What about now? Now the morning page beckons me to write until that moment when it stops being easy and trite, when I have cleared my head of the detritus of sleepy dreams and the kernel of an idea of something to write about begins to appear on the page . . . then I stop writing, I come to the edge and retreat as the quotidian impinges . . . feeding the cats, ablutions, breakfast . . .

So far this is an amorphous collection of incomplete thoughts. You got that right. There is a cheeky voice has to have his say. This used to happen when I'd type cryptic notes to myself on an old IBM Selectric many years ago. I have those pages somewhere. Definitely not for public consumption.

So, what is this about? Does it have to be about something?