To molder and crumble

My Moleskine notebook fills with inane thoughts, words and phrases, silly ideas and stories, eccentric characters, usually as I sit on the light rail or bus as I commute to and from work. Hopefully I won’t start spouting them out loud. On that day, I get off a different stop and check myself in!

Hey!

What?

Shouldn’t you put those crazy thoughts and inane scribblings away somewhere? Maybe filed in a dark corner of your mind to molder and crumble away forgotten?

Can’t do that, that area is overflowing, I have to release them somewhere.

If people see them they might think you’re insane.

That’s what the doctors say.

What doctors?

I don’t know, they never say, they just walk in bedecked in their white coats, scribbling on their clipboards, nodding heads and knowing looks, then leave again. Hey do me a favor?

Sure, what?

Loosen the straps they’re a bit tight.

Dr. Seuss I not

The slim, slam, slap, sloo…

What?

Mind your own it’s nothing to do with you.

Dr. Seuss you’re not.

The glim, glam, glap, glot…

Clever, funny, witty you are not.

See, now you’re doing it!

Ugh!

I be…

I be a poeta; a word slayer, a sooth sayer…

Excuse me?

What?

Are you reciting crap out of your Moleskine notebook again?

Maybe.

A “sooth sayer”, really?

Well, I’m all out of sooth and too shy to say.

I think you’re crazy.

What you’re a doctor now?

No, but come on don’t you think you’re crazy?

I don’t know I’m not a doctor either.