Bedtime is the wrong time for all of this.

I used to keep a tape recorder by my bed, until it felt like my creativity was mostly dried up.  It got used once in a blue moon, most of the time, but every now and then there would be a streak of babblings.  I lost it in one of the more recent moves.

The thing is that bedtime has always been a stupidly creative time for me.  I lie down in bed, turn the lights out, and toss and turn trying to fall asleep.  At that point, my brain goes into hyperspeed, and sometimes inspiration comes tumbling out.  It frustrates me because I can't hold onto any tired inspirations through sleeping, but if I recorded all of them, I'd take forever to get to sleep.  And I'd be tired the next day.  So, usually, I'd let them go.

The tape recorder was for making a recording of one or more wild dreams I'd wake up from.  They always seemed to be a good basis for a story or two.  I still have writings in the works based on dreams from long ago.  Too bad one of my hard drives failed with no backup, and the original of one of them is lost to time.  Luckily, I had worked with the idea enough that it's taken on a life of it's own, and it's not without some record.

Last night, I would have really liked to have had my recorder.  The first time the lights went out and I was inspired to record poetry, I gamely turned the bedside light up a bit, and wrote it down.  It took a much longer time than I had wanted it to.  The second time, though, I was exhausted and very close to hoping I'd just remember this morning.  Eventually, I caved into myself and wrote it down too.  I have paranoia that the first will be written off as angsty or high drama, and the second will be considered just stupid.  I'm okay with the second being silly, because it's certainly not deeper or more meaningful.  But I don't want dumb.  However, no matter how they are regarded, I'm going to toss them up here for now.  In the order I wrote them last night.

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Hindsight is 20/20

I look back on that last night
I remember it all
The people
The feelings
My memory is crystal clear
And ohso foggy

I had my feelings
Conflictions
Others swirled around
Easy to get
Opaque

New information has come to light
And now the last night
It looks so different
I scream, "I wish I knew this then!"
I bellow, "No, I don't!"
All is quiet outside

It's easy to believe things
Would be so different
So perfect
My new life a factory direct
Picture perfect jigsaw
All done up for the frame

There are so many reasons to believe

And so many things it's easy to discard

It's so easy
To use hindsight
And new info
To say I was wrong

Fuck Hindsight

I stand by my decision
It is mine and hindsight
Cannot have it

The consequenses that are so easy to discard now
Would have raged
A reign of terror on my life
Self inflicted

Yes, I do wish that lovely fantasy world I see
In Hindsight
Could be real

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I would ride.

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Poetry slam?
I don't have the attention span.

Tried one once,
Felt a dunce.

Got my scores,
Walked out with an award!

Tried to replicate that feat,
Got handed my teeth.

Considered Cockney rhyming slang,
Think that'd go over a bang.

Alas, I'm not that clever.
So I never
Participate
In a poetry slam.

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That is all.  Welcome to my midnight ramblings.