For eons thereís been a myth circulating that writers only deliver during bouts of insanity or when theyíre in altered states brought on by indulging in their drug of choice.
You must login to vote
I firmly believe that writers donít need to trip the light fantastic to achieve the nirvana of delivering words that capture transient thoughts which arenít required for the necessary evils of daily existence. Those who strive to achieve bouts of brilliance by availing themselves of mind enhancers will fail if thereís nothing of value circulating in their brain at the best of times.
In my opinion, those infamous wordsmiths, who were druggies of any ilk, succeeded in spite of their crutches and would probably have been more profound if theyíd been unimpaired. Iíll even venture to suggest that these addled icons sought solace because they couldnít handle the notion that the canyons of their mind naturally contained chasms of creativity.
In my experience, when Iíve indulged in my drug of choice, Iím knocked out of the lyrical loop. When Iím under the influence of painkillers, which are prescribed, my brain takes a holiday and thereís nary a recollection to reflect upon. This is my state currently due to some strained muscles and pulled ligaments due to unwittingly overextending my reach during my self-imposed rock pile detail. This injury happened June 13th [a Monday, not a Friday] after three days of overexertion brought on by a euphoria of feeling energetically fit. I was totally out of commission for a week and then gingerly began flexing my muscles to ensure that my rehabilitation process got underway. Iíve been taking, only when drastically required, Tylenol 3 and muscle relaxants which deliver, for me, a warm and fuzzy glow. Iíve stopped dreaming too and perhaps itís because, until two weeks ago, I was only able to doze in my rocker and to date, theyíre still on a sabbatical.
The one time, about ten years ago, when I tested the theory of intentionally prompting creative juices by toking up on a vagrant roach. When that didnít deliver I downed two fingers of scotch. The only thing that happened was I slept the afternoon away and awoke feeling mentally muddy.
Therefore, using my own experiences as a logical basis, Iím convinced that nobody requires an elixir to tap oneís natural resources.
"Tigers bloom where there's oodles of room." Zodiac Zoo