I wish I could string together my moments of ‘brilliance’. They’re like scintillations in a bubble chamber - blink and they’re gone, leaving you questioning whether they were there at all.
Like particle physicists seeking undiscovered subatomic particles, I wish those ideas could last half an hour. I could photograph them! Show the world! Build them into a solid theory!
Alas, I can barely remember my moments of so-called brilliance, let alone put them into coherence. I sat down at the piano today and played about five minutes of something. Then it was gone. I was back to my usual old bluffery, the chords and inversions I always play and the patterns my friends could detect blindfolded - vintage me.
That’s the thing though isn’t it? They say you should craft your voice, find your own unique sound or writing style or brushstroke technique or whatever. But doing that with variety, with genuine creative expansion, that’s the tricky part. I figure I need help.
Anyway, at the moment it’s all bubble and no brilliance. Perhaps it’s just a matter of time. Or perhaps it’s just the art of letting go of thinking I need to be brilliant. But I don’t want to be bored; I do want to excite myself with something new every now and then.
I’ll be back to it, the weary scientist at the piano.
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