I found that I had to leave my village and seek enlightenment elsewhere. I have been capturing the lives of alien creatures, which I see in my dreams, and sharing them with my tribe. I have worked hard to place those vivid images on paper. I wore my quill to the nub while I used my pen to paint the amazing pictures that I saw.
I must take my aluminum dwelling to the great sea. I must take my visions away from my village and seek the power of the sea god Ventura-Beach. I must make the sacrifice of separating myself from the other villagers and perhaps containers of fermented berry juice will allow my humble musings to appear, once again, on paper.
The sacrifice is difficult; I must face the heat of the 75-degree sun. I must work in its glare and I must endure the rhythmic pounding of the waves. I must do these things for my craft. I must resist the heat of the campfire, I must survive the consumption many foods. I do all of this so that power will return to my pen.
In my disappointment, I find that the wondrous prose that I penned yesterday now appears written in some foreign language; perhaps Klingon and I must edit more to return it to the beauty it had when I laid it on paper. Alas, my beach god is weak today and I must consume more fermented juice. Perhaps the other scribes whom I share this craft with, will find strength in their Ice, Snow and Wind gods.
May amazing images flow from their pens?
I must find the strength for my tribe; I must endure.
Ray Jay Perreault