This afternoon I sat down to scribble some notes for this edition of Horse by driving to Middle Head which is about 3 miles from where I work; plonked myself down on a hillside of clover and then watched as the ferries plied their way across the heads between Manly and forth and back to Circular Quay.
I was watching some red poppies bend in the light breeze and the only thing I could think of was that fable by Aesop where the sun and the wind had a contest to make a man take his coat off. Let me tell you that sitting there, the sun won.
At some point I must have fallen asleep because I remember waking up 20 minutes later the same way I do quite often. I'm sure my brain must be wired up wrong because every so often when I'm asleep, I'll be woken by what I think is a white flash and a horrid ringing in my ears - when this happened the first few times when I was about 16 I honestly thought that the world had come to an end.
Anyway, the point of this post is in that instant I reckon that I must have had some fantastic idea but when I came to and was fully awake, the idea was gone. It was quite literally a flash of brilliance, but only a flash - if it was a streak or a 12 part tele-series I wouldn't be here typing this but going out and making money off of it possibly, maybe... if it lent itself to that sort of thing.