I was flipping thru an old entry for reference purposes and found this quote from Hoagy Carmichael about "Stardust"--do you remember?
This melody was bigger than I. It didn't seem to be a part of me. Maybe I hadn't written it at all. It didn't sound familiar, even... I wanted to shout back at it, 'Maybe I didn't write you, but I found you!'
How does that happen? Is it a trance?
Do you have nights when you feel mediocre--so crushingly mediocre, you think it's unkind to the world to inflict your work upon it? Out of sympathy for others, you think maybe you'll stop trying?
And how does that happen? Is that a trance too?
It's not true, I know it. It's not true. It's just the jealous demons. There are demons, dead demons, who are so jealous of the living, and our wild freedom and beauty and action, that they whisper into our ears things to make us afraid of having fun, all the fun they can't have. They're rotten, I tell you what. Rotten demons. They seek to turn the living into zombies. I have come so close to being a zombie, and I have been a zombie at times, I think; these jealous demons are tireless because they have no bodies, nothing to do but poison our spirits.
I'm going to name mine some uncool names like Fred and Marge and make them wear 1950s aprons. I'm gonna teach them they can't kill my spirit and if they get too close they're going to be blown away by my solar wind.