I have nothing in my brain at the moment. At least it feels that way. I’m forcing myself to type this because I don’t have the patience for pen and paper, even though that is the superior form for writing creatively.

Someone once wrote that what I have is something akin to notes flying in and out of my brain, its air traffic control radar covered in “flights”.

It seems I can’t concentrate on much at all lately, but that could be from the frivolity of the season.

Even now, I have no stream of consciousness because I am too slow to catch any of the Post-it Note “flights” zooming in and out of my head.

I need my own personal air traffic controller.