Shhhh

You know the way sometimes you can be confident no one will hear what you're saying because you're saying it to yourself somewhere very noisy - cursing the length of the queue for the cloakroom in the chattering unwelcome pale blue light of 2am, maybe you're singing the words slightly wrong in a choir of fifty others in navy uniforms, and you just know no one will ever hear, and sometimes you know no one can hear because you're in a woods, and there's no one around, or you're having that nightmare where you're trying to shout but there's no air in your lungs to push out through the voice box.  And sometimes no one hears just because you're only saying it in your head...

Well that's where a lot of my blog posts are getting caught nowadays - in that mousse like mess of neurons behind the balls of jelly that I use to look at stuff.  The opening or closing words of blog posts, poems, soliliquays, jokes, stories, plays, novels, songs - echo in the silence, never to be heard again, not even by myself - since I don't write the stupid things down.

And now my writing muscle has about as much muscle as a mussel, (not counting the strong bit that keeps the shell closed, cos my point is that it's not strong any more - quite the opposite), and only half as salty.

So there y'are, maybe I'll throw a little shell fish catcher line type thing in there sometime to try and dredge out some of the ideas see if they're worth cooking up... but meanwhile

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh