Of late, I have noticed a trend which isn’t really new to me. And I am supposing that I can take some small comfort that it is not a singular circumstance bearing only my name, in that others may suffer this horrendous plague. It’s similar to writers block, only worse I truly believe. As in it seems the best ideas I have to put on paper or, in reality, this blog, manifest themselves when my head hits the pillow after kissing my wife goodnight. Ideas of which I really have a strong desire to turn into written words and post here for all the world to read, and to know a bit more about the workings of my mind.  Not to mention enjoying those same ideas put into words. Unfortunately, I have yet to discover a way to type by mental telepathy. Worse still, I usually fail to remember what those thoughts were by the time I get to my keyboard. How sad that is as I have written the best novels, poems and stories which you may never have the pleasure of reading. It’s what I do instead of counting sheep and most nights, I really don’t seem to have a choice in the matter as that insistent, obsessive little voice in my head simply refuses to be quieted. Ah, but I have so much to write. If I could only remember those imaginative words of magical proportion from one night to the next day I know in my heart I would be happy. I would know I had accomplished a most worthy goal. Oh, I have tried to leave the bed and push the keys on my keyboard, but the journey from bed to keyboard is, alas, long enough to disconnect the stream of brilliant thought. But I shall keep trying though, for a lack of effort is a more depressing occurrence and the most sorry excuse of which I will not allow.