It's now, when my immune system is low and whatever flu-like symptoms plague me have subsided somewhat, that I receive an intervention in the form of inspiration. Or not, and I just feel like being productive after a day of sweating, suffering and overall hating life. Either or, when one is delirious from fever, interesting ideas come out of the woodwork. Ones that haven't found the recognition that they deserve to a irrational mind. Oh, the colors you'll taste! (Notice: synesthesia is not a common side effect of fever-induced delirium. I'm just playin', dawg.)
Now, I'm sure that my grammar and my usage of literary devices is sub-par, but I fancy myself a decent enough writer. I haven't had a chance to post anything that sticks out in mind, and I should get on that. However, my creative side, as well as my physical side, is lazy. It's very hard to kick my ass into gear, but once it does, I enjoy getting something under my belt. I'm just not good at sustaining. (Make as many sexual innuendo as you wish about the previous sentence. I put it there purposely.) At one point, I plan on writing an opus work that revolves around vignettes of a different sort. Though I'm sure a trip to the psychiatric ward of any hospital will await me if I were to do it, I think it would make excellent fodder for a novel.
And I think that will make this post the shortest to date. I blame the headache and aching I'm experiencing from the shivering.
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