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Date: Wed 07 Feb, 2007 at 23:14
Headline: Bleeding From The Forehead
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"But pity me not, for I lay in the wasteland of angst and alienation unto myself? Dot, dot, dot?!?"

-Henry Rollins,
Talking From The Box

Greetings & ....Aauuurgh!

("Look, if he was dying, he wouldn't have bothered to carve 'Aaaauuuggghhhh'. He'd just say it.")

Fair enough.

Here's the thing about writer's block: yes, it's absolutely terrifying when you're staring at a blank page and bleeding from the forehead and wondering if anything at all will ever come forth, but in a way it's worse when it only seems like your productivity is high because you keep filling page after page with stuff that seems good during the Burning Fiery Faith moments but which then completely loses its allure in the cold light of semi-objectivity.

Such has been my fate the last little while. After being more or less completely corked up and beset by horse-choking, mack-truck-stopping ennui over the past few months, I have finally felt the dam burst and the ideas start to flow, but turning those ideas into workable songforms and/or lyrics that I can re-read without cringing violently is a whole other game level.

Of course, it probably isn't helping that today I'm cold and achy and my stomach is treating food as some strange alien substance which it has never before encountered. Bloodletting or sleep-dep or spinning around really fast may have worked for the Mayans or whomever, but such comparative conditions have not provided me with much in the way of inspiration.

So here I am, trying to write a blog entry about writer's block, in the hopes that it will loosen me up enough to get back to work on the other stuff and have it not -- what's the word? -- suck.

In the meantime, after a couple of months of inconsistent DVR performance, I've finally dragged myself kicking and screaming (it was quite a sight, really) into embracing the bittorrent world, and can now happily catch up on episodes of House, Veronica Mars, The Colbert Report, Mythbusters and more in between bouts of eating it on the songwriting front, almost as if I'm an actual TV-watching kinda guy again. Cool.

And now that I've referenced Monty Python, Douglas Adams, and (indirectly) Blackadder in one entry, maybe it's just time to continue towards the direction in which my subconscious is obviously pulling me by putting on some Eddie Izzard, and call it a night.

Nah...back to eating it for a while first.

later,
TB