I've been a bit sick the last few days. Being sick is never fun. Though that's not entirely true. If you're sick and you have no responsibilities and a mother who will bring you tasty hot things and rent you lots of movies then it isn't so bad. So what I really mean is: being sick as a pseudo-adult is never fun. Which is too bad, because I'm never going to be anything other than a pseudo-adult...maybe one day I'll be a real grown up, but I don't see that in my immediate future.I'm feeling a bit ooky about writing as well. The things I've been excited about/working on are getting a little stale. This is probably because I've elicited too many different opinions about them and have found myself at a loss as to which opinions to listen to and which to ignore. But I have no lightning strikes of brilliance for different approaches to the work. And more importantly, I have no pressing obvious story I can write instead. It will pass. But soon I hope.
1 comment:
what i've found works well is listening hardily to everyone, then getting angry at them all, suppressing each and every one of their comments on an ego-maniacal rampage while somehow letting my id filter the goodcomments back into my superego like one of those bubbly 80's neo-lights.
goodluck, your work is unique.
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