Coffee in 15 minutes

When I first started writing songs last year (it was actually in 2004, but 2005 was such a gonner for me, I’m just gonna skip it), I did an exercise that really made a big difference in opening up my writing space. One of my best friends, Michael, returned recently from a 10 day Vipassina retreat, which for Mr. Fidget was a feat, to be sure. Anyway, he reminded me about this exercise, and since I’m making another creative push this year to write more songs, I thought I’d dust it off and give it a whirl.

I have a really hard time keeping to a disciplined daily practice of ANYTHING, except perhaps, sipping some Martinelli’s Apple Juice before I go to bed. I guess there’s a distinction between disipline and habit. I digress.

So this morning I was flopping around in bed (well before my alarms were due to strike) and thought I should do the exercise. It’s basically writing for 15 minutes exactly. Not a minute more. The idea is that it’s just enough time to get into the writing space and not enough time to get frustrated by it. In fact, it’s designed to leave you wanting to go back and write more. But you don’t.

So I’m gonna try to do this first thing in the mornings. I have a feeling it’s gonna open some stuff up. I’m already STOKED for Oh-Six and there are beatiful little buds of songs sprouting up already.

So this morning (for SOME reason), coffee was on my mind and was nominated (like the kid pushed out of the pack for a classroom exercise) as the topic. Here’s the result:

Coffee in 15 minutes
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Dancing with the delicate
Half fiend and half angellic, it
Raises my accuity as it races through my veins
Like trains, unstoppable
Pulling my lethargy along like a tumbling
Burlap bag of cotton and feathers.
Strewn with not so much neglect as intent
Sips from the black boiler tossed into mine
To stir and rouse the sleeping giant
Steam shouts and whines and rises
Like smoke from a distant fire
A whistle blows and then a lurch
The clanking cars of consciousness
Begin to roll into the long day.

I dipped the slender wooden stick, barely thick enough to stay erect into the piping hot Peets coffee. I’d gone well out of my way to make the Peet stop. Starbucks, despite its