The following scrawlings squeaked out of my inferior hand:
My left has long been shunned in any but the most mundane of tasks, and this must be payback. Mad? Nay, merely painstakingly slow in its creativity. Interestingly enough, the right brain defers to the left's stylistic sensibilities. Freaky revelations, chapter six, verse 66.
On a completely related note, just finished Jonathan Lethem's Motherless Brooklyn which features the fiendishly clever pseudodetective Lionel Essrog and a narrative flush with his impulsive, convoluted Tourette's Syndrome. Highly recommended to any pithy rhymers in the crowd, especially if you've ever occupied the same space as my voice.
And see, there's gonna be a movie adaptation as well, with dual roles of director and lead filled by the lovely Ed Norton, no stranger to weird and spastic parts.
Look for the Johnny Depp-A-Like in drag. You'll only see her in the right side of the wrong viewing screen.