To Think With A Clear Mind Is To Have A Cluttered Reality

A hand taps the shoulder of an incredibly gorgeous looking woman resting in a lounge chair. She raises the brim of her floppy hat and lowers her sunglasses to see what's what. The hand thumgs over its shoulder. The gorgeous lady peers over the shoulder and nods slightly. She then dowsn the last of her drink, stands up and puts on an oversized shirt. She give the hand a gentle squeeze and walks of view.....

Hiya folks! It is I, G.B.'s wonderfully talented and incredibly hot muse, who'll be spending this fine October day chewing the fat and passing the time talking about nothing of import or consequence, at least to me that is. But then again, one never really knows.

G.B. asked me early yesterday morning if I would do a guest spot on the blog today, 'cause he had something of actual import that did not revolve around work. I told him, "Why yes, I would just LUV to talk on your blog today. Problem is, I have nothing of import to talk about. Got suggestions?"

Roughly one minute minute later, I had an idea, courtesy of the oneness that we have that I sometimes forget about. So, without further ado, here goes nothing.

Do you find your inspiration for what you do from your dreams? Do you take them from the fully fleshed or do you take them from the super-duper short? Do you dream fully fleshed, or super 8? Is your head clear and calm when you R.E.M. or do you have a million things going on at once? National Enquirer minds do not want to know, but G.B. might.

Ya see, G.B. finally got hooked on an idea for a story. Much like the one that percolated during that tween time between waking up and being fully awake which ultimately became this in 2012, so did he have another that percolated in that other tween time, of having a cluttered mind and a clean reality.

The mind was cluttered from spending an exasperating evening watching the N.Y. Mets, for they are G.B.'s favorite baseball team, lose game 2 of the World Series to the Kansas City Royals. Exasperated because the Royals were basically taking the Mets out to the woodshed for a good old-fashioned spanking, he decided to hit the sack early. Once he got settled into the comfy chair...umm...bed, he began to mull around the basic concept of retaliation: namely, pitching seriously inside to the point of head-hunting.

Well, the more he thought about it, the more annoyed he became (yes, baseball fans can be just as nutty as football fans, American or across the pond), and the more annoyed he became, the more he thought about it. Eventually, that annoyance turned into a much clearer concept and that clearer concept soon morphed into something else: a story idea.

And true to form, he began writing and outlining the story in his head, until he finally came up with a viable concept:

Journeyman minor league pitcher Melvin Melvin (his parents had a warped sense of humor), nicknamed "Buzzsaw" for his proclivity of using the beanball for a mightier purpose, namely, crippling up-and-coming/can't miss prospects. Blessed (cursed?) with pinpoint control, Mel Melvin was a man to be both feared and despised.

Thus enamored, G.B. intends to work on this story while working on his other project. To quote a military recruitment commercial, he is a man with a plan. Whether he succeeds or fails is entirely up to him, but if anything, it shows that he does his best creativity with a semi-cluttered mind and a semi-clean reality.

So concludes our guest post about how a cluttered mind can do good things. My job is done here, so I must be going. To where is up to your wickedly vivid imagination.

TTFN.

(c) 2015 BOOKS BY G.B. MILLER. All Rights Reserved.