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Musings
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
November 2, 2005
What can I say. It’s been writer’s cramp, you know, well drying up and the like. For countless days, even months, no inspiration, not even a spark of creative thought. Alas. Like trudging through the boiling sands of a desert, feet sinking into the gritty inferno, feeling the intense rays of the sun, burning, blistering, wrinkling your skin until you can hear it crackle. I could die for water, you think. You know you will without it.
Of course writer’s cramp isn’t as torturous as slowly roasting alive in the desert. Though in a curious manner, it could liken to be. Your brain is dry, in dire need of an idea to develop. A disturbing and desperate state to be in. One you don’t want to languish in indefinitely.
Appears that for months on end, the only news one hears is bad news. This has been the year of the Corrupt Politician, the Insatiably Capitalist, the Blood-Thirsty Warmonger, the Belligerent Sociopath. Add to this, Mother Nature’s unrelenting fury. Accountability, responsibility, kindness, honesty, unconditional love and principle all seem to have gone out the window. Long gone are the days of the Three Musketeers’ rallying cry, ”All for one and one for all,” now only a faint echo from a long-forgotten dream of yesteryear. Now, it’s only me and mine.
One of these days, that spectacular silver-lined cloud will reveal itself. And all will be well for a long time to come.
posted by Leslie
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