Writer's Block? What, are you kidding?

After seven cups of coffee on the seventh day of the month, the day seems more manageable. I let an eclectic mix of music drift into my subconscious mind, bringing me back to the 1960s. Armed with my ipod and infused with caffeine, I'm now able to tackle any project. Anything, that is, except writer's block. Of course, there are days when I'm able to get totally into flow, writing non-stop for up to eight hours, creating lucid, free-flowing prose. Today is going to be difficult, as the caffeine rush is rapidly dissolving along with the tie-dye haze of one-hit wonder groups.

Enough! The 1960s weren't really a time of production for me; better the music of the 70s and 80s, with pounding, hypnotic beats that launch my being into the ether of an altered state of perception. OK, let's try my old standby: Betty Davis Eyes. The beginning chords, repeated multiple times, just mesmerize my psyche, pulling me back to the boardwalk at Wildwood, NJ on a warm July evening. The flashing lights flood my third eye and unleash the bard within. I wonder how Shakespeare got into flow? Back, before the days of stereo headsets. . . . and Enya!