There are some people in the world who say that writing stories, or composing music, or dancing sparkly dances is easy for them. Nothing interferes with their ability to create.
While I celebrate their creative freedom, a little part of me just wants to punch those motherfuckers in the teeth.
- lyrics from Die Vampire, Die! from the musical [title of show] by Hunter Bell and Jeff Bowen
Today I just want to punch some motherfuckers in the teeth.
I have been creatively dry for weeks now. I can barely blog. I can't write reviews. Everything seems stalled. Plus, all of my bad habits seem to have come back with a viciousness heretofore unknown. It's like I'm a slave to all my self-destructive impulses. The little red devil sits on my shoulder whispering, "Give in," while the angel that's supposed to be on the opposite one sits on a beach sipping planters punches while ogling the natives in their sarongs.
I'm looking for suggestions on how to break this slump. So far all I've managed to come up with is going up to the roof with a rifle and shooting at the cars driving by with their stereos blasting. Of course, I don't have a rifle or roof access. And somehow I think hurling sarcastic bons mots from the fire escape will be less effective, though it will be more in keeping with the way people act in my neighborhood. Well, assuming "Shut the fuck up, you fucking [appropriate racial or ethnic epithet]!" passes for bons mots anywhere other than here. My own bons mots being more Shavian than that (at least in my own mind), I fear they would not help me fit in.
So now I'm left with the options of doing my taxes or watching TV and drinking. Devil votes for watching TV and drinking. Angel . . . ? Yeah, that's what I thought.