If The Presence Of Great Ideas Could Be Engineered, Everyone Would Generate Ten Great Ideas Per Hour

Ideas as strange. They come unannounced, like the winds; they bloom when it’s ripe, like flowers. I hesitate to call ideas “my ideas” because it’s not me who creates it. It just sort of comes, y’know, like a lightning zap from the Gods. There are days when I’m receptive to ideas, there are days when ideas don’t come.

How does this thing work? I have no idea. Even this piece of writing is strange. Why do I have the urge to write this? Where does the idea to write about ideas come from? When I play piano, ideas just appear in the brain, and it’s translated into key-presses, which produces sounds. Where the hell did that come from? No clue.

If good ideas could be engineered, everyone would have ten good ideas every hour. But this somewhat random, somewhat woo-woo thing ain’t like that. Good ideas aren’t widgets you crank—they’re more like delicate butterflies that come to you when they feel like it.

I feel like a TV. Yeah… I’m like that. TVs don’t create stuff, they have antenna to receive signals and merely displays them. I have an idea-antenna that can detect ideas whose broadcaster is unknown. It comes from somewhere; it comes from some source…