I've got nothing today. Absolutely nothing. I'm blocked up harder than... a really blocked up thing. See? I couldn't even come up with a good metaphor there. That's how bad I am this morning.
But the only way to get through writer's block is to write through it. That's what they say, right? Write through the block. Let's give it a try, shall we?
Okay, writing writing writing. Let's write. Come on, Brendan - you've got this. You're the man. You can write the shit out of this journal. Do it! Do it!
I think the problem is I haven't been sleeping well the last few days. I put the air conditioner in last weekend and while it's much more comfortable as far as temperature and humidity, it's a constant stream of cold air at my head. I think it'll just be an adjustment period. I seem to remember having trouble sleeping this time every year after I put in the A/C.
Wow - that last paragraph was absolutely horrible. Who gives a shit about my air conditioner? What a boring, pointless journal entry this is turning out to be. I suck. I'm such a horrible writer! No one will ever love me!
Okay, get a hold of yourself, Brendan. That sort of negative thinking is completely counterproductive. You're still a good writer. Right? I mean, how does anyone really know they're good at anything? "Good" is such a subjective term. Am I a "good writer" or a "good person"? When I was a kid, adults used to say I was a "good little eater." It sounded like a compliment at the time, but now I'm not so sure.
All right, I think it's probably about time to land this puppy. Was this an interesting view into the mind of a struggling writer or just a self-indulgent gimmick to get through yet another day? I guess I'll never know. Unless people put comments and tell me how much they love/loathe me. I'm pretty sure Joe is going to make some anonymous death threat. That guy's got a lot of anger.
And.... done.
But the only way to get through writer's block is to write through it. That's what they say, right? Write through the block. Let's give it a try, shall we?
Okay, writing writing writing. Let's write. Come on, Brendan - you've got this. You're the man. You can write the shit out of this journal. Do it! Do it!
I think the problem is I haven't been sleeping well the last few days. I put the air conditioner in last weekend and while it's much more comfortable as far as temperature and humidity, it's a constant stream of cold air at my head. I think it'll just be an adjustment period. I seem to remember having trouble sleeping this time every year after I put in the A/C.
Wow - that last paragraph was absolutely horrible. Who gives a shit about my air conditioner? What a boring, pointless journal entry this is turning out to be. I suck. I'm such a horrible writer! No one will ever love me!
Okay, get a hold of yourself, Brendan. That sort of negative thinking is completely counterproductive. You're still a good writer. Right? I mean, how does anyone really know they're good at anything? "Good" is such a subjective term. Am I a "good writer" or a "good person"? When I was a kid, adults used to say I was a "good little eater." It sounded like a compliment at the time, but now I'm not so sure.
All right, I think it's probably about time to land this puppy. Was this an interesting view into the mind of a struggling writer or just a self-indulgent gimmick to get through yet another day? I guess I'll never know. Unless people put comments and tell me how much they love/loathe me. I'm pretty sure Joe is going to make some anonymous death threat. That guy's got a lot of anger.
And.... done.
15 Comments:
booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
You suck and I hope you get sucked into the turbine of a jet aircrat, somehow miraculously survive, go through three years of agaonizing physical therapy and then are sucked into yet another jet turbine, this time surviving once again, again wih the therapy and then marrying a shrewish woman who makes you unhappy for the rest of your life.
You deserve it.
See? Very angry.
I find it difficult to sleep without air conditioner noise.
I, too, have got nothing.
The noise is good. The air blowing so close to my face is bad. The guys blowing me - good. Them blowing in my face - bad.
Uh oh - I feel the mojo coming back. Whooo!
This is terrible. I'm quitting the band.
You're a good writer and a good person. And a good little eater.
Thank you, darling. Sometimes in life, you just need a little confidence boost from your singer's wife.
i haven't slept at all either. i have no a/c in my room. at least not yet. i'd rather not have to.
though last nite doesn't count because after turning the TV off and making an attempt to sleep, i heard a whisper from somewhere in my room. it either said "can you hear me?" or "will you marry me?"--oddly enough i think it was the "marry me" one. anyways, that in conjunction with my attic door being randomly throw open last week has brought me to the conclusion my room in haunted..
and just remember, you're not just a good person, you're an awesome person, an awesome writer...blah blah blah..you're just blank today, it's cool.
That was the ghost of Jason Halogen asking you to marry him.
If you don't get that joke, you weren't at our Abbey residency, were you? Well well - looks like you lost out on the larf.
was there really any need to bring my ex-fiancee in this?
it was a very difficult break up and you know it.
best 40mins of my life.
was the sex at least good?
That was the best 40 seconds of her life.
(rimshot)
another notch on the back room of the abbey's wall.
Yikes. Good thing Jason will never read your silly little journal.
actually, i do have a blogger account from the time before myspace. check me out.
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