Lately, I find myself impootent in the face of a creative block.
I start a story or a song, and leave it unfinished, or I write the first line and straight away screw up the neatly folded quater sheet of paper and cast unto the wastepaper basket,
It's a mark of a true writers block, so they tell me, when you start wrioting about your writers block. Hence all those bad second albums, dissapointing followup novels. I wonder if Rembrandt ever had painters block? And if that's what self portraits are really about?
Eh, who knows?
I got a hair cut today. It's wierd, but I've been meaning to get my hair done a certain way for a while now, but everytime I sit in the chair, I ask for the same old thing. Scared of a barber. Yup. I suck THAT much.
I start a story or a song, and leave it unfinished, or I write the first line and straight away screw up the neatly folded quater sheet of paper and cast unto the wastepaper basket,
It's a mark of a true writers block, so they tell me, when you start wrioting about your writers block. Hence all those bad second albums, dissapointing followup novels. I wonder if Rembrandt ever had painters block? And if that's what self portraits are really about?
Eh, who knows?
I got a hair cut today. It's wierd, but I've been meaning to get my hair done a certain way for a while now, but everytime I sit in the chair, I ask for the same old thing. Scared of a barber. Yup. I suck THAT much.
Damn, i've been feeling outta touch with everyone in London. Missing it.