I have nothing to say.
I am starting to feel a creative drought coming on. This may be due to several conditions:
1.) It is winter. The leaves are gone. Most plants are close to death and the environment is almost void of any animals besides man (and they are depressing enough).
2.) I have been saturated with rest. I sleep too much, lay down too often, watch TV, lounge and relax far too frequently. These lethargic tendencies seem to be lulling me into a vegetative stupor.
3.) I am losing confidence in myself because I haven't produced anything grand. I am starting to think that it is beyond my reach.
4.) I am having a difficult time focusing on small individual tasks and large abstract ones. Its as though I can't see the forest or the trees.
5.) Things aren't changing quickly in my life. Change must occur for any progress. The air feels stale.
- Nirvana
I can't stand phone cards. You spend 5 minutes punching in the ungodly amount of digits to make a 30 second phone call just to save 10 cents.
I have developed a strong appreciation for the dirty martini. Of course I would likely enjoy any drink that included an olive impaled upon a little skewer.
I think I know why I haven't yet written a novel: I am so concerned about choosing the proper setting, characters, plot and theme that I can't decide on any of the hundreds of ideas I imagine. There is no other excuse. I should just throw such immobilizing caution to the wind and go on instinct. Let the critics determine my fate (they can't be any worse then my own internal critic). This isn't my modus operandi, but I need to learn to adapt.
I am starting to feel a creative drought coming on. This may be due to several conditions:
1.) It is winter. The leaves are gone. Most plants are close to death and the environment is almost void of any animals besides man (and they are depressing enough).
2.) I have been saturated with rest. I sleep too much, lay down too often, watch TV, lounge and relax far too frequently. These lethargic tendencies seem to be lulling me into a vegetative stupor.
3.) I am losing confidence in myself because I haven't produced anything grand. I am starting to think that it is beyond my reach.
4.) I am having a difficult time focusing on small individual tasks and large abstract ones. Its as though I can't see the forest or the trees.
5.) Things aren't changing quickly in my life. Change must occur for any progress. The air feels stale.
Jesus don't want me for a sun beam
- Nirvana
I can't stand phone cards. You spend 5 minutes punching in the ungodly amount of digits to make a 30 second phone call just to save 10 cents.
I have developed a strong appreciation for the dirty martini. Of course I would likely enjoy any drink that included an olive impaled upon a little skewer.
I think I know why I haven't yet written a novel: I am so concerned about choosing the proper setting, characters, plot and theme that I can't decide on any of the hundreds of ideas I imagine. There is no other excuse. I should just throw such immobilizing caution to the wind and go on instinct. Let the critics determine my fate (they can't be any worse then my own internal critic). This isn't my modus operandi, but I need to learn to adapt.
posted by T.S. Idiot at 7:47 PM
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