FROM THE LAND OF THE MIXED METAPHOR
Here in Hawaii we are known for our geckos. Green. Brown. Speckled.
Tiny glue-like feet clinging to a surface loosening only when you pass underneath.
Falling onto some exposed body part or annihilating itself inside some difficult to clean machinery.
I've had them drop down my shirt, ricochet off my chest and bounce into pancake batter.
(Don't worry Gordon, I fished him out.) I am fairly certain 375 degrees kills lizard cooties.
So. What does reptilian shrapnel have to do with writing?
Well. Their tenacity for one thing.
They stick to everything those lizards.
Kind of like excessive adjectives.
Improperly placed adverbs.
And Homeric similes.
His hands slid into his gloves like a well-greased bearing inside a brushed steel wheel with a Goodyear MT Baja all terrain radial tire.
75 degrees and 10 pm.
My nitwittery continues unabated. Hurtling unchecked down the proverbial highway of manic writing.
I like a good metaphor.
I love a bad one even better.
Similes make me smile. The more the merrier. The grander. The amazingly obtuse and the excessively obscure.
Allusions. Illiterate alliterations. Perturbations.
I'm done now.
With my literary tantrum.
And this is all due to my reptilian inspiration: The lizards of Hawaii.
Long live the gecko.
The mighty mighty gecko.
What inspires you to lunacy?