the most effective music to write to? it's not music you like, you'd be surprised what writing emerges from listening to what you'd usually discriminate against to form relationships - for me? that's pop music, mostly boy-band music: sweet lies - and trance / dance music... dance music is the quintessential dichotomy of classical music - the excess of drums - it's a contained version of the inexplicable St. Vitus' dance - it's a controlled virus, but it also works with writing: as does popped version of all the major genres - primarily because you can be offered the chance to be a backstage observer - the crowd is pleased, it's jumping up and down, and you're in the shadows ******* a poem out, for all intended purposes.

even if something profound happens to you,
you experience something inexplicable -
you have to return to the little joys of life -
that everyday people comprehend only slightly:
to be honest, the little joys of life are more profound
than hearing a burning bush talk -
the reservation is primed upon the: personal
and private - farting in a crowded train
just diminished the theory of solipsism -
after all: everyone compares their farts to
the scent of strawberry fields - evidently farting
on a crowded train destroys the theory, outright.
even if you did hear a burning bush talk
and never heard of a Brazilian wax ice rink -
you got to keep up with the basics of life,
if i was mad enough, and didn't enjoy music
as much, i'd be a raving shaman in
the Amazon rain-forest: half of proposed hyphen
compounds to attain a Germanic *bubblingblahbog
will not pass the Oxford censor - the optics
are already too much scattered in English from
original Saxon - thus comes the certainty of
yesterday's night: shaving.
i've been growing this mogwai for some time
(also a scottish indie band) -
                 but yesterday i decided to shave -
a month if not two or three passed -
i just missed the feel of razor-metal against the skin -
first the scissors, to cut most of it off...
then the foam applied to the stubble -
then the razor... ooh... ooh... most ****** hair
hits full crop yield in your late twenties -
          beside the fact... i can't tell you the experience...
after a while the mogwai just gets pulled a lot,
twisted and curled by the fingers,
a bit like passing time smoking cigarettes -
you fingers need to do something -
          but the feel of the razor metal against the skin,
the sound of unforced itching when the sliding
scoop travels against the skin -
                          without comparison -
it just feel right... obviously the goat had to remain
to hide the double-chin - all the perks of having
a diet primarily fuelled by a suggestion:
and what if there was no water on this planet,
what if this planet had lakes, fresh water sources,
but instead of salty seas, we had alcoholic seas?
well: first of all we wouldn't get the point
of how Na-H2O defies gravity, travels up into
the fluffy kidneys (clouds) and falls back to earth
pure - i'm suggesting something akin to:
   clouds and salt - the prime component of clouds
has to be salt, based on a simple suggestion of
magnetism - i mean, the seas aren't boiling,
there's no volcano kettle making sea water into
sea steam - i'd love to nibble at a clouds and say:
stash that into a bag of chips with some vinegar.
still: the pleasure of shaving... and drunk...
not a bad job... a goat did emerge last night.