The Wee Democracy

i can't write.

i've been trying to write for the last couple of days, as i hadn't written anything creative in some time. yes, i know, you cry, but josh! you write so well on your blog that we can't imagine how anyone can expect you to devote an equal amount of attention to what can only be described as sublime fiction without abandoning us! well, fear not.

my fiction is crap. in mid july i started writing a story that was a sorta prequel to another short story i wrote before, my intention being to write a series of stories about this particular family, scarred one day by an unimaginable trauma. however, i started writing one of the new stories last night, and i realized, hey! this is melodramatic crap! sometimes i wish i had the sack to beat myself up, cause i woulda slapped me around last night for bringing such atrocious drivel into the world! ugh!

my creative bursts are sporadic at best. we're a bit like pamela anderson and tommy lee, creativity and me. we're on again/off again. and most of the time when i reeeeeally feel like sitting down and writing something, i have to do it at my computer, because i can't write it long hand - i don't have the speed writing longhand as i do typing, and i need to keep up with the thoughts in my hand as soon as they come!

so i started making notes, but then, when i sat down to turn the notes into actual text, drivel!! crapfest!

and then when i actually do get the juices trickling, i get interrupted by some stupid-ass request from the people i live with. i'm losing my perspicacity!!



feeling: on edge.....on a very, very, VERY slippery slope, or precipice, if you will
thinking of: moving to california - after all this fire shit calms down
song of the day: fake plastic trees - radiohead
quote of the day:
Harry Dunne: I can't believe we drove around all day, and there's not a single job in this town. There is nothing, nada, zip!

Lloyd Christmas: Yeah! Unless you wanna work forty hours a week.