Think

I Should Be Allowed To Think

They Might Be Giants.

I saw the best minds of my generation/
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical/
I should be allowed to glue my poster/
I should be allowed to think./

And I should be allowed to blurt the merest idea/
If by random whim, one occurs to me/
If necessary, leave paper stains on the grey utility pole./

I saw the worst bands of my generation/
applied by magic marker to dry wall/
I should be allowed to shoot my mouth off/
I should have a call in show./

I am not allowed
To ever come up with a single original thought
I am not allowed
To meet the criminal government agent who oppresses me

I was the worst hope of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical
I should be allowed to share my feelings
I should be allowed to feel
I should be allowed to think
I should be allowed to think

Both Mella at Empty Sky and Poor Mad Peter in Another Country tell me I actually am thinking, and nominate mine as a Thinking Blog.

What's more, now I have to nominate more folks to increase dopamine and brain convolutions. Not to mention give me html fits. The Blogistan list of links isn't enough, oh no. I have to narrow this down to the folks who give me ideas, challenge me, grab my brain like a terrier and shake it until new stuff drops through the Conscious slot. Fine. This is them.


Whiskey Searches all over for the best words, the ones with sharp edges and the brightest lights, curator of thought and wisdom.

Mole creates perspective, looks deep inside himself, never flinching, honestly revealing every lie and shadow, comes out the other side all bruised and torn, takes a breath, and goes back through from the other direction.

Self Winding Patricia sits quietly, and the truth comes and lights on her, then she makes a breathtaking photograph of it, she is amazed.

Language Hat never stops thinking, in several languages. In this deluge of expression, he sees the universe turning on an obscure phrase or a common word, and laughs.

I know, I know, I keep trying to shove you all over to read Moira at Blue Abstractions, and then try to get her to write and post more of her dense, warm, luminous photos. However neglected her site, I know this woman. Her thoughts are down to the core and streaking across the sky, a constant challenge and balm to me.

I know this is a hard assignment, at a time when the blogging bug seems to be going around, and so many of us are at low ebb. Think about it, though. Reaching out to others is a great way to pull out of one's own misery.