Pizza, Purple, Peaches in Flash Friday Entries

When I tell people that I sometimes hear voices in my head, they look at me as if I am crazy, or if I am telling them the voices are telling me to kill them. Stop. But that is not what I mean, not at all.

In America we are taught, early on, the power of words and connections. Alliteration. These ideas form thoughts and sentences and make complete… I spy with my little eye, Eye for an Eye.

But when you have ADD, things morph. Things change. My very Excellent Mother just served us nine Pizzas. But now there are no pizzas because someone decided that the pizzas weren’t as important as the number being served. Red Leather, Yellow Leather. I love new York, I need New York, I love to need New York. The phrases never stop, the images never stop, the words never stop screaming in my head aloud, loudly aloud.

And then those phrases, The Purple Peter Eater, Purple Dinosaur, Barney, Ke$ha, Eating Disorder, Order, Focus. Just stop being phrases and in my brain is a continuous cycle of crap, even though I appear to be focused on the front. The words don’t mean anything, just a stream on consciousness I can not turn off. Turn off, Right here. This is aggravating because I can fixate on something as well as wonder about other things. For example, I just wrote a flash, but during the middle of it, my computer restarted. Losing my words. I remember parts, but can’t remember them as a whole. I am having a hard time moving on because I am so fixated on recreating an image that I can not create another one without focusing on the first one. Around and Around. You spin me Right Round baby right round, like a record baby.

Around and Around it goes, where it stops… No one… See, off track again. Focus. So the words go on in my head and I have to shuffle through it while being assaulted by other words and ideas. Like a ship in the ocean being battered both ways by the waves. The best thing for the skipper to do is to hold on, or be tossed down in the swirling waves of the Ocean Floor. The little Mermaid. “Look at this stuff, Isn’t it neat”. Reminds me of songs. “Peaches come in a can, They were put there by a man”. Song about peaches, written by a group called something with the presidents. Reminds me of Obama, who reminds me of my coworker who places the Race card. Cards. Reminds me of my father who I am scared of him, not him, but the fear that when he dies I will not be sad.

Right now, I am typing this, but in my mind, I hear my cat licking behind me, lick lick lick, and the sound has always driven my batty because I think it is disgusting. This is normal, but what isn’t normal is I can not not listen to him. Lick Lick Lick. I yell at him to stop for my job here is to write a flash. Flashers, naked, penis, flesh. Flesh, Fresh. Fresh Flash. Ideas. Plot. Dialoge. Needs an A and a B and a C. I think I have D and F… nothing in order, nothing makes sense.

The voices are loud. They drive me off track. Dale Jr drives on a track. So does Lighting McQueen. Reminds me of my nephew, Reminds me of love. Reminds me of Family. Family is good motivation for a plot. Plot Thickens, much like gravy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sidenote. This is not really a flash, as much as it is me writing the happenings inside my head. Whenever I saw this prompt, I kinda of fixated on it for... 4 days before I finally had to sit down and write this. I always do that with alliteration. It's horrible. I also can sit and rhyme words with myself. Makes the time go by. Yeah, I guess I sound a little crazy now. :)

So... yeah. I know, sounds crazy, but this is... how I operate. :) Different, but it's my prosebox, my flash so I am going to embrace it.