Be The Man When I Die

I started this one off with the title, I didn’t really have an idea so I thought I would use the prophet of G-eazy as my muse. Instead of Sherlock Holmes’ “create theories to fit the facts, not facts to fit the theories” I’ll be using a title to create the piece.

I used to write my English essays title first then let the story fold out from there, it was pretty good, I’d have a lovely structured piece that complied fully and ran in a constant fashion. Then I realized I should probably start writing before I came up with the title, it allowed me to chase down any ideas that sprang to mind, to go down routes that a fixed title would’ve never allowed me to go down.

Any that’s a little story because sadly G-eazy isn’t the most creative muse and its been a long day.

My thought train just thought through a list of things, tired turned to sleep turned to dreams. Then I remember today’s idea, I had a dream last night that basically ruined my sleep cycle. I kept asking this person who I didn’t really know (well I know who they are but I’ve almost never talked to them before) if I could go to their birthday party. I kept getting shot down, then I pulled out the big guns, “why did you invite Seamus?” “because I used to love Seamus” and that’s how I seemed to have lost 3 hours of sleep last night. But it was strange this confrontation, it seemed stupidly real and I felt this feeling that I feel whenever I’m in one of those horrible social situations, like when Mike Ross found out Rachel got with her ex, that kind of gut punch thing, but in a dream. Damn Seamus broke my dream heart.

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