Dreaming

Dreaming for something too beautiful can ruin you. When I heard that it seemed profound, then ridiculous, then apt, then just a bit awkward and then something I'd rather not consider; finally it came to have a bitter little ring of truth about it so I pushed it down. It seems to be that (basically for want of a better word) life is just an open banana  sandwich. That's just a mashed up banana squished onto a flat piece of sour dough bread. You can try to make more of it, explain it in greater depth, try to solve it's problems or understand it's hidden depths but really all you'll do in the process is ruin it. Of course I know that I'm just talking to myself, making no coherent sense in just trying to capture some elusive feeling, some mellow glow that came along on an unexpected, impulsive thought and almost made me smile with the absurd familiarity that a surprise brings. A random piece of electricity that I tried to catch and understand. How stupid an idea that was, how good humoured but  ill considered, how futile. So I just move on, turn another page in the book and see what happens, which words might catch a fire or what series of feelings and inklings might be generated from the random external influences that regularly crash, quite unexpectedly into by haphazard little orbit.