Going Through a Dry Spell (Literally)

 Help!

I need some writing, not just any writing…

The well is running dry. Either that or I’ve got to dig a deeper hole…but how far down can I go? The famous poet Edna St Vincent Millay said “myself I think will never know/ how far beneath the wave I go.” Well said. So, it’s not so much how deep can I go — I could plunge endlessly — but how much is my audience willing to tolerate?

And most of these amorphous concepts I can’t even get down on paper. They’re ideas or phrases or cool title ideas, but they refuse to flesh out. They go nowhere. I always think of that scene from Boondocks Saints where Greenley says to the fat dude lying by the dumpster: “you’re going nowhere! Nowhere!” Yeah. I have slightly more faith than that, like the gumption to take off with a broken wing and try to mend it along the way. 

And then there is the writing I have deleted. Yes, deleted. Because I don’t like having too many drafts, and I figure if it was that important I’ll remember it later. My journals I keep, I’ll probably never throw them away. I got a whole suitcase at my dad’s of “Florida” and “summer pool monitor” journals. But what am I going to do with all of them? Will them to my nonexistent children? Then those ghouls better make me famous like Emily Dickinson! I could be posthumously humorous, but instead I’m alive and it ain’t funny. 

This is my life. Write. Edit. Repeat.

And I’m still not happy with it.

And it’s like hey you went to college, you should be pretty good at this by now. No shit. That was academic writing where they shunned the parentheses and exclamation point, and I still couldn’t be serious. I started this blog to do some fun writing, like exploiting my spirit guides. And they’re probably pissed, like my guardian angel, hanging out sipping martinis in the Bahamas. And it’s dry as hell up here, I’m just asking for a little rain, because I’m a spoiled little writer, concocting bullshit for a small internet space that nobody reads. Did I say it was fun? :)

I’m kinda sad that the Satan stories are over :( That was really good material, and I didn’t even get into all the details and juicy bits because I don’t want Blogger to take away my blog (it’s mine and I’m keeping it!). But out of the appropriate material I definitely didn’t go “beneath the wave” because I let the story flow with what I remember and capped it for length. I’m anxious to edit it, but I don’t expect you to re read it (I wouldn’t want to retraumatize you). Time flies and nothing gold can stay. Unfortunately, there will be no more drinking stories to report. Sorry.

I could be junk journaling right now, but I don’t have enough materials for that, like actual physical stuff. Hell, there’s plenty of material for writing, I’ve just got to get my brain to cooperate. If I can force my brain to stay sober for two years, I’m sure it is capable of a lot. For now this blog is my own “junk journal.” There you go.

PS. I know I talk about my blog like a lot, ironically on my blog, like an echo chamber, because I don’t have kids or a dog (my cats are my kids but they don’t want anything to do with me). It’s better than writing about smoking. Like I said…Help!