The other day I was feeling moody and irritable and unsatisfied with my writing. I imagined my mood as a very down-to-earth truck-driver puppet who insisted that my writing and ideas about creativity were just "fairy stuff." Hmm, this pattern seems to be repeating itself! In any case, this truck driver just drives, loads, unloads, drinks coffee, eats hamburgers, and drives some more. He said:
I'm a truck driver
I drive all day and all night
I just drive this truck
And once in a while get in a fight
The other drivers drive me crazy
But I'm the commander of this deal
And I eat a hamburger and fries
At every single meal
I pickup a load
And haul it around
I'm tough and macho
And really on the ground
Not like, these flakes
Who play music and sing songs
They have no feet, no meat, no muscle
They're just airy-fairy and wrong
I got to put them in order
I want to put them on the ground
Make them get it all firm
Safe and fit and sound
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