I don't know what's up with me lately. I'm just kinda ..not there. I mean, I'm going to work, I'm hanging out with friends, I had dinner with my dad earlier this week -- and I've enjoyed and appreciated all of those moments; but then when I come back to my apartment it's like I'm finding myself still really craving inspiration, still needing some sort of personal spark that for whatever reason I can't seem to find.
But when I open up Blogger to write it all down it's like the engine won't turn over. I mean, there's the usual pressure at work and drama at home -- but nothing really to the point (I don't think) where I can't hear some white kid butcher the hell out of "Redemption Song" and not get all revved up over the prospect of laying waste to his lame ass.
I mean, I had a great weekend with my kid. I had this whole rant about Valentines Day worked out in my head. For gods sake, last night at Endo there were a bunch of ratty college kids in African-flag-colored knit hats struggling to create their own god-awful acoustic versions of Bob Marley songs, complete with forced Jamaican accents -- the table couldn't be more set for me to put pen to paper.Dinner is nuked. Dishes are stacked. TV is watched. Couches are slept on.
But when I open up Blogger to write it all down it's like the engine won't turn over. I mean, there's the usual pressure at work and drama at home -- but nothing really to the point (I don't think) where I can't hear some white kid butcher the hell out of "Redemption Song" and not get all revved up over the prospect of laying waste to his lame ass.
It's like there's a shadow on the floor crossing over mine. Something I can't see. Something I've gotta figure out.But for whatever reason, the words aren't happening.
..And all these heart-shaped Mylar balloons and rose bouquets showing
up at the office every five minutes aren't really helping things either.
[Listening to: Fugazi – "Birthday Pony" ]
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