I guess I am blessed with an abundance of ideas. Actually, everyone is blessed with an abundance of ideas.
There are ideas for everything. Ideas for lots and lots of things. The tea-lady, if you sit down with her, or the security guard, would bombard you with ideas.
That's why, when people ask me for ideas, I usually just give mine away. SOme are good ideas. Others are bad. Actually, ideas in itself are neither good nor bad. They just are.
I once fell in love with an idea. She had a unique voice. One I wanted to capture and put in songs and sonnets and scripts and stories.
ALways dancing, teetering on the very edges of despair. I had hoped, in my feverish dreams, to stay in the bottomless pits and catch her as she fell, keeping her warm from the coldness of the dark.
Alas, when I get near, it was just an illusion. The price of getting what you want, I guess, is getting what once you wanted. Said Neil Gaiman. Chaos be upon him.
Ideas are so fragile, that when you get near them, they break, and the ugly pustules of reality and the smell of rot and decay would fester in your nostrils and haunt your dreams for years to come.
I am a creature of dreams. And yet, I am anchored in reality.
Perhaps one day, I shall meet my idea, and she would not break. And that we would dance away... in the dark.