The Origin of Ideas

I'm sure that many of you wonder where I get my ideas. After all, my life is boring. I don't do many exciting things, my life isn't very intellectually stimulating, and yet I still manage to put out a good 600-word issuance from my mind on a regular basis. It's true that some topics stick to the usual "What I Did This Weekend," "What I Just Read," "What I Just Watched," or "What I Just Listened To" that tend to dominate the posts on many blogs, but that doesn't really explain many of the posts that I really think set the tone of this blog. And for your benefit I'm going to reveal the secret.

I pull them out of my ass.

Actually, that's not quite right. It really should be more like I coax them from the surface of my buttocks. It's true. Each morning as I trudge into the bathroom for my daily shower, I scratch my butt, itchy from a night of being pressed into fabric wrinkles. Those wrinkly impressions, combine with stretch marks, hair, and those natural tiny wrinkles and cracks that make a nearly imperceptible patina on even the most flawless of skins to produce a pattern much like that of the grooves of a vinyl record. As I scratch, the tiny vibrations travel up through my fingernails, through the arm and eventually into the brain where they are sometimes heard as tinny little voices suggesting the day's topic. I don't always get these communiques from my butt. Sometimes they're white noise, garbled words, or some language I don't comprehend. On those days, you end up with my reviews of Kitchen Confidential or comparing the nurturing side of Homer Simpson to that of the main character in the Czech movie Kolya, but when the transmissions come through clear, I spent my morning turning these ideas over and over until I get to work and let them flow, now closer to a completed form, back out of my fingers onto the keyboard of my computer.

If you found my explanation for my sometimes eccentric writing ideas disgusting, inappropriate or just weird, it's only because you've failed to tap into the creative powers of your own butt. You really are missing out. I mean Mickey really could be spending the time he spends digitally spelunking in his sinuses scratching his butt and maybe he put out quality content on a more frequent basis. Courtney, being smaller and more proper than some of us, could perhaps find an especially ridged section of concrete and dance her little jig in hard-soled shoes to tap into the creative potential from within the artificial stone. Maybe Meaghan could buy a cat and pick up on the creativity of the the rough tongue licking her ear as she dozes on a Saturday morning. I sometimes think Chris may have already found his personal creativity record, but he seems ashamed of it and rarely allows his connection to turn into a post.

Don't be ashamed of your butt (or whatever you use as an alternative). Let it fill you and then give us what spills over the top. You can always delete it later when we have no clue what you're talking about.