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I tried to write last night and couldn’t.  Or, maybe it was that I just didn’t want to, so didn’t.  It’s not Writer’s Block.  I’ve had that before and the feeling and effect is different.  It’s true that when I try to think of topics and themes I come up blank.  The two I posted last don’t count.  One was a retraction; explanation and thoughts thereon.  The other was partly original and reflective, but really was little more than a journal entry.  This one doesn’t count either, because I’m writing about not being able to write.  It amounts to little (if any) more than pure drivel — see below.

So, when I come up blank I don’t pu shit push it.  It is not because I know that pushing it rarely helps and more often (90%) makes it worse.  No.  It’s because I just don’t give much of a damn.  Actually, I know a way to push it that works about half the time, but about half the successful attempts produce either total drivel (see above) or pure crap (depending on my frame of mind.

I digress.


the reason I don’t give a damn is because I am physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually exhausted.  I want to sleep long, deep, uninterrupted hours in a soft bed, awake refreshed, full of inspiration with a burning desire to write, make scrambled eggs and toast, write, watch a little t.v. and go back to bed (a soft, warm woman accompanying me would be cool, but let’s not get ridiculous).

Instead, I eat only sporadically, sleep on concrete, dirt, and sometimes gravel, huddle under the eaves of buildings trying impossibly to stay dry,  shudder bone jarring in the cold, and comfort drunk, homeless women missing their boyfriends (see Balance Retraction).  The list of pains and humiliations goes on and on.

I tell you, it’s enough to defeat Charles Dickens or even (God Forbid!) Steven King.

Did I tell you that I’ve been reading Kafka lately?  No?  Well, maybe later.  You talk about a tough read!  *whew*

So, here I am now, Free Associating (also known as “rambling).

Signing Off.

Ham (hold the eggs)