Ain't It The Truth?

Oh, me too, I'm always brilliant when the words are nice and safe and private in my head. They leap and covort, colorful and juicy in there, and then when I put them on paper something about the journey down my arm sucks all the life out of them and the words lay flat and dessicated on the paper or they just sag there like unsalted oatmeal. Ugh. I'm determined to claw my way out of the blah hole I seem to be in these days. Maybe one of the exercises Thursday will light a spark. We can only hope.