WRITING: Ideas

Ideas run around like children in my head, demanding each their needs fulfilled at once. The oldest just needs hemming of a prom gown, a four-in-hand figured out and tied. Hunger met by milk or french fries plain and easy, or by escargot and flaming Baked Alaska served in darkened rooms. The simplest are met and sent away, or judged unworthy and ignored. The most devilish are intriguing and awarded time. Mediocre never suits a writer, so these are shipped off to a boarding school and only home on holidays to stay a while. Triage of thought is a complicated process.