On Spontaneous Prose and Imp Theft

My own birthday seems little more than a few weeks ago and yet it has been about 6/7 weeks since that post. Somewhere a small imp-like creature is hoarding this lost time, caressing each flask with glee before placing it on the shelf with the others. You know the one; the shelf above the boxes of lost socks. That shelf. To what ends I'll never know.

In my absence (read: neglect) of this blog there have been moments of creativity. Quicksilver flashes of wit and rhyme that come and go without warning. I'm never quite sure if they're for my benefit however, or for those living in that magical font of social knowledge we call Facebook. A status post here a comment there is where my childish rhymes have taken residence of late. And like a good little vanity devil I've relished the attention they garner (I'm not that much of an attention whore, but who doesn't like positive feedback on their efforts?).
A Poem about wanting to leave work for the day. A quasi-sonnet detailing a friend's adventure to the middle ages in search some good ol'fashioned lovin'. The latter of which surprised even me in it's cleverness, which came about after stumbling upon the true origin of areas called Grape Lane. A raunchy origin story if there ever was one. All that and some quick four liners for funsies.
All in all, quite productive compared to my imagination dry spell of recent times.

Now I turn my scrambled mind towards greater endeavours. A journey out of whimsy and into reality. My oft spoken of but never acted upon hypothetical tour of the homeland. 24 years and this country is no better known to me than the metric system is to the USA. It will be short and sweet (thank you full-time employment...) but littered with friends as I intend to visit old and new in their respective towns and cities. And grab free digs in the process. Ha ha! Yes, a grand adventure it will be. From North to South, and every which way I can. London, Birmingham, Nottingham, Oxford/Cambridge (I always forget where he lives). These cities will harbour my good self before throwing me to the rails to be loosed upon another hive of activity. All that remains is to turn it from a thought into a reality...

...I may need a bigger cup of coffee for this one.