Franticy

 I looked around.  Things had to change.  If I was-gonna write Conditions had to exist that would promote indoor desk activity.  I needed CLEAR Space, Music, Weight-lifting machinery, plus my speed bag Regimen, Sword Work as well.  I needed tables, research tables, writing tables blah, blah,, blah... I've spent the last 3 weeks Clearing and Cleaning, Reordering and Repositioning,, Solving Logistical Problems with "Martian" Execution,,, although the Scene in "Limitless" best portrays the Activity as Psychological Attribution of Intelligent Design, meaning, ORDER generates CLARITY.  

I set to task in (with) a torrid tornadic Frenzy >> a Bi-Polar meld of the Tazmanian Devil and Mr. Clean.  But.............. there were Demons.  I indulged in Franticy, (Frantic Idiocy), the one where I wondered if I could actually devise the Opening Sentence.  As I plowed the Clusterfuck Fields of Over and Undergrowth, YEARS of deliberative Confusion, the sheer DAUNT of Undertaking gagged me with gut grinding Anxiety.  I had the Ability but did I have the TALENT ?   Was I REALLY a Writer ?????? !