the world belongs to the brave

So this is what happened. I was getting the upper hand in the struggle against my writer’s block, ideas for new posts and various prose pieces accumulating in the back of my head. Just as I was about to put pen to paper, or finger to keyboard as the case may have been, the proxy server I’ve been using just stopped working. No WordPress, no facebook, no nothing. Long live the CPC!

There I was, with a handful rough drafts and nowhere to put them. Have you ever experienced the creative expiry-date? Like if you don’t finish your piece within a certain time, it’ll just die and you can’t really do anything with it. That’s where all those drafts went. And, having yet again been kicked off track in my creative habits, now I can’t find anything to write about again.

Just to keep things flowing, here’s a rant ↑, and a poem ↓ about not getting anything out (oh the irony).

Enjoy!
◊ Alex

.

Drought

Perched on the kitchen work top,
cigarette in hand.
All creativity has drained
the imagination dried up
and I feel like
the most uninteresting creature
on the planet

When nothing more comes out
no images, no words, no ideas,
no gleaming insights nor blazing visions
I get stranded in this drought;
fall between the cracks
in the parched landscape floor
Waiting for the rain and another
flashing summer storm

What is left of me then?
If I do nothing, think nothing, what is left of me?
What purpose is there to breath and blood?
What am I doing here where
droughts are constant and
summer storms rare?
Or is it not the place
not the conditions
not the weather?
Is it just

me?

.

Alex | June 2011