fitzcaraldo – n. a random image that becomes lodged deep in your brain – maybe washed there by a dream, or smuggled inside a book, or planted during a casual conversation – which then grows into a wild and impractical vision that keeps scrambling around in your head, itching for a chance to leap headline into reality.
I feel this most often with projects around the ranch. I’ll get an idea to build something, usually to make my life easier, but sometimes as a work of art, and in my mind, I’ll think about the exotic woods, the clever design, the neat ways to fasten things.
Then I realize that I can’t find time for many of the more practical things I’d want to do. I’ll never get to most of my ideas.
Maybe, however, I’ll tackle one or two. We’ll see. For now, lots of fitzcarraldo in my head.
From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows