06 December 2011


Is it just me, or do other people find it difficult to focus on writing? I find I need definite structure, deadlines. I need someone to tell me what to write. I need to make the conditions favorable to such a task, but I'm not sure if it's more coffee or more scotch that I need. Is it too cold or too hot? Does my sweater have an anti-creativity property? I'm drowning in words that have no meaning and no order. The stories swirl around my head and tangle themselves into an unmanageable mess. Was it the wealthy banker poisoning the prince locked in a bell tower who ate the wrong pudding at the bus stop while elves danced merrily on the hot coals in Thailand? It sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it. I just sit here getting fatter, hairier. Maybe I'll explode one day. That would be exciting. Hair and guts everywhere. And the words would be gone; the story, a memory. The sweater washed and sold at Goodwill.

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