when i first started all this
writing was a disease.
my life revolved feverishly around the pen and keyboard.
poems would be scribbled on fast food napkins and gas station reciepts.
ideas would keep me up all night.
sonnets my date to the movies.
verbs and nouns my only friends.
but then, i got tired of the city
moved me to the mountains
found me a girlfriend
let go of my frustrations
and the fever has stopped.
the verbs and nouns have stopped coming over.
the muse ignores me on the street.
and i'm lost
and i dont know what to do.
writer's block is normal
eight months of it is a bit extreme.
yep, i have been sitting here reading that last line over and over for the last ten minutes.
and another ten minutes.
i have now raided the fridge.
i have played with the dog.
i am now going to buy some flowers to sacrifice to the gods of poetry.
6:30 p.m. - 2004-10-30
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
God. - 2014-10-27
I remember me. - 2014-10-17
The Paper - 2014-10-13
A Post About Not Doing Anything - 2014-10-12
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