That’s it. I have sat down three times in the past three days to write something and nothing came. Well, not exactly nothing … The first time, I decided to use the tag lists on my blogs to come up with something. I tried a selection, I tried the whole list on all 3 blogs, adding words, not adding words … nothing was acceptable.
This was the best – and I use the word guardedly – of them:
dreams, fantasies, ghosts
a nonsense nudity rant
running sex streams of consciousness
blogging of boredom cults and obsession poetry
sex politics and spam stories
flower longing – loss
love obsession – possession
The second writing session was inspired by a phrase I read in someone else’s blog, or something to that effect: Cynicism poisons the soul.
That in turn poisoned my rentboy muse, who lies on the floor in the corner of my office with foam oozing from his mouth.
Yesterday, I went old-school, sitting and staring at a blank Word document for hours, and the whole of my exertions was distilled into four words.
tired of waiting
I’ve never believed in true writer’s block until now. There are ways of getting out of it, tricks, puzzles – but none of them are working now. I know it will come back, but I’m tired of waiting. (That phrase keeps coming up.)