Everything has to work perfectly with everything else. The harmony of order, when the mind is in chaos. But order tends to get in the way of creativity. Trying to sit down and write, mind teaming with ideas, yet the physical situation is less than satisfactory. So it must be made conducent to being a writer. The hunt for the perfect pen begins, the coffee table that isn't even used as support is covered in filth. That needs to go. Organize the mess, and find that damn pen. Is the piece of paper waiting to be turned into the next masterpiece of the mind, clean? Is it a pure white with crisp blue lines, or muddled by scribbles? Now light a candle or two, as it offers a mood. Smokes? Check. Weed? Check. Grab something to drink and away we go, to dazzle the people with the amazing insights your mind is teaming with. Wait! Couch cushions are not in their appropriate placement. Ok, now sit... and write.

Wait! What was I going to write about? ? ?