The Creative Process
Somewhere someone is singing Fly Me to the Moon at this exact moment. I’m missing out on that. But, as it’s said, “That’s life.” Better I miss out on a crooning pièce de résistance than be strapped to a hospital bed, waking from a ten-year coma, with Total Eclipse of the Heart stuck in my head. Some things are unavoidable.
The button on the intercom marked “CALL” doesn’t seem to call anyone, and the only thing I can think is “turn around, Bright Eyes.” The table beside the hospital bed presents a neatly-folded sweater vest, a back issue of Medical Monthly, and a tempting piece of key lime pie. Unfortunately, my arms are strapped down. As I said, some things are unavoidable.
It’s also worth noting that I think I’m made of purple Jell-o.
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