I swear to God this has to be the 10th time I’ve opened a WordPress post and stared at the blank, white text box waiting for inspiration to whack me over the back of the head.
So far this tactic of producing good writing has not worked. Sure, I’ve come up with bits and pieces but I get halfway through the post and think, why the hell am I writing about this? No one wants to know why I didn’t feel like getting out of bed this morning.
I want to write about who I am now, but I would only be able to tell you that I’m sitting on a wooden chair with a colourful cushion in front of a laptop; half the time typing and half the time staring out the window or straight ahead into nothing.
I’m not thinking about anything. I’m not even thinking about my past or my future. I’m being in the boring now.
I’d like to muster the enthusiasm to drag out a canvas and start a project I’ve been thinking about for a friend.
I’d like to fill my apartment with music and light.
I’d like my bird, Monkey, to stop sitting in his cage; silently staring at me, silently judging…
…not really. I think he is just wondering what I’m doing.
I have no idea, Monkey. No idea at all.