I walk around with my Alpha waves cooking away, thinking of cool shit all the time and when I finally sit down, they all poop out. I walk around the library and truly believe there are enough books out there - they have all been written.
In the Sandman, not only did there exist a Merripen, but he took a knife stab through the hand and actually did something cooler than I had envisioned - he grasped the hand that held the knife. I gotta write before someone else writes all my stuff (I still should write that story about the lady that did that without thinking and was stalked by the other lady whose brain she had tapped.) I do have an idea dump. It lurks behind me, starring with glowing eyes into my spine - a very bad feng shui set up.
Biting so hard I crack all my teeth
My right leg, for no reason, suddenly collapsed beneath me. I felt my knee give way, and knowing my temperamental joints, it was more of a grimacing annoyance. What was a surprise was the fact that I was at the top of the library staircase with my arms laden with media. My grimace fell to a frown as I toppled forward, letting go of my books and cds that fell with a clatter, pages fluttering and plastic cases cascading down the steps like a shower of flower pedals. My arm was too far from the rail, however. I could not catch myself. What hit first were my shins, and the base of my spine glowed with pain as the front half of that which is me stopped suddenly in its graceful decent and reversed direction. My wrist crumpled as I unsuccessfully through my hand out to catch myself. The worst pain came when my chin hit, snapping something in my head that made my ears ring. Then my forehead hit as my body slid a few steps down, floated on the skittering volumes of James Joyce and the Bach biography I would never get around to reading.