I had an idea this morning but forgot it. I had a small ceremony in the garden, burying the idea. I gave it a solemn send-off showing how much I care: I don’t, though, ask anyone who knows me. Ha, you can’t, nobody knows me, I have been keeping myself a secret. That’s why it is best to forget the ideas that ship from Idealand. Post them straight back, return to sender. Yes, the idea I forgot was not forgotten without a huge effort on my part; the ceremony was an attempt to ritually pass on from the aching annoyance of yet another idea that will never go anywhere.
The idea would merely have toyed with me beat sore my fingertips as they enthusiastically bashed out internal imagery into recognisable shapes that form lines of meaning. Then with furrows on the page, on my fingertips and on my brow; a slow realisation: ideas are not enough. Ideas are cries from the elemental collective unconscious, calling for better; calling for evolution, screaming: ‘this is not good enough! Open a better path out of the forest?’
My idea, if indeed it was mine, was a deformed seed. A grass-like thing meant to help fill a summer field with the raw material of sustenance. But this seed has other ideas; genetically superior notions. This seed is a transformer sent to change the course of Mankind. Except, in negotiating the laws of chance it has travelled way off target. Unable to fathom that it is so much in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Damn the idea has come back to me. I must go and dig it up out of the garden and cremate it.