The Muse and Me

Morris, the maniacal muse, has been a constant companion of mine ever since that last rock concert I went to in the 70's.  Though the details of that particular concert are rather vague, ok so the details of most of the concerts I attended then are kind of vague, anyway, I distinctly remember Morris first appeared to me after that concert.

We had left the concert and gone back to a friend's house. Having grown bored with staring at the lava lamp, and dizzy from watching the swirling colors on the ball hung from ceiling, I was staring at the Goat's Head Soup album cover on the wall, and grooving down to Purple Haze.   And while Jeff and I debated the true meaning the words, Excuse me while I kiss the sky, I felt something descend upon my shoulder.

But instead of finding a friendly hand, I perceived a 9 inch blue muse perched upon my shoulder.  And in a cynical little voice he said to me, "Hey Blondie! it ever occur to you he was just wasted and didn't know what the hell he was saying?"

Now I had ingested no strong hallucinatory drugs that day.  And though I may have inhaled a time two that day and evening, I honestly do not believe that can account for the sudden appearance of Morris.  I would think it would take a lot more than a little silly smoke to account for the appearance of a very cynical 9 inch blue muse upon your shoulder.

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