i have writers block today. as i type i feel like my mind is wading through mud or deep sand or both and i can't seem to get it off the ground. Off the ground, i can't seem to get it to stay awake. Already life is coming at me and i can not separate and let go of the jumble of thoughts, memories, plans, and desires meshing themselves in my brain. I feel like i have a brain of play-doh right now. Its annoying. Its frustrating. The clock is ticking itself to the time i have to get ready for work and this is all I've got. Writers block. My muse has checked out, my brain has checked into the day and my instincts are trapped in a mud bog. What is this i call writing? what is this i call an outlet? What is this i call a blog? Days like today i wonder at the point of writing at all and the perfectionist/wanna-be professional cringes at the thought of publishing this dribble, but fuck it, i think, i will post this if i want to.
Besides, who will actually read it?
No comments:
Post a Comment