Writers block
I’m writing this for me. It doesn’t make sense that I’m writing it for myself, because being the one who wrote it in the first place, I would have no need to re-read it as I already know what it contains, but I was told that writing something without the pressure of knowing someone would read it is a good way to cure writers block, which I currently have. I don’t know why I clarified that I had writers block, I already knew that and if this is for myself, there’s no need to write it. FUCK!!! I can’t think of anything. So I write nothing. And then I re-read it for some reason knowing already what it says. I must have short term memory loss, or ADD.
I think I write better when I know people are going to be reading this, because then I can make a candid reference to…shit…I’m trying to think of an inside joke but the only thing I can think about is rimjobs….eh…that came out wrong. Maybe only two or three people reading this DON’T think I’m a sick fuck now. Seriously though, to those who don’t get it: it’s not the kind of rimjob you’re thinking about...sorta. It’s an inside kinda thing. Okay back to writing for myself because I’m trying to cure writers block.
I have the urge to quit Microsoft word because I don’t like what it is I wrote, but I already clarified to myself that I’m not writing this for anyone else so it doesn’t matter if I like what I wrote…but if “I” don’t like it and it’s for “me”, then I have every reason to delete it right? I don’t know.
I don’t know why I bother to write a blog anymore. I mean there was a point when what I had to write about was passionate, i.e moving to California. Or maybe what I wrote about was interesting or funny and that semi-justified whoring out the fact that I wrote a new blog and checking to see if I got any comments like an attention….I don’t like using different conjugations of the word whore twice in one sentence: it just sounds funny so I won’t do it.
There was a point when I wrote about something, and it wasn’t two dimensional. It was three dimensional in that you could read the words, you could get the story, and there would be an unusual format to them that would give that third dimension: B it something simpl lik subtracting th lttr “ “ from th sntnc to kp th writing intrsting. Maybe it was writing about my day in backwards format. I did that once and I enjoyed it. I started with what just happened and I proceeded to work back in time telling the story of my day up until the point I woke up, thus literally starting with the end and ending with the beginning, concluding that I shouldn’t even bother getting up today because it was so shitty. That really added a third dimension or level of creativity to the writing, and because of it I still remember writing that piece to this day while I forget about most of the other boring blogs I write; but this isn’t a blog. It’s a piece for myself. I’ve been meaning to write a “backwards day” blog but at the end of the day, nothing interesting (I just wrote and deleted and the re-wrote the word “enough” six times before deciding I would write about how I just wrote and then deleted the word “enough” six times, during which I chose the combination of words) at all and I didn’t want to write about nothing at all in the first or last place.
Hey ya know I actually like what I just wrote.
I think I write better when I know people are going to be reading this, because then I can make a candid reference to…shit…I’m trying to think of an inside joke but the only thing I can think about is rimjobs….eh…that came out wrong. Maybe only two or three people reading this DON’T think I’m a sick fuck now. Seriously though, to those who don’t get it: it’s not the kind of rimjob you’re thinking about...sorta. It’s an inside kinda thing. Okay back to writing for myself because I’m trying to cure writers block.
I have the urge to quit Microsoft word because I don’t like what it is I wrote, but I already clarified to myself that I’m not writing this for anyone else so it doesn’t matter if I like what I wrote…but if “I” don’t like it and it’s for “me”, then I have every reason to delete it right? I don’t know.
I don’t know why I bother to write a blog anymore. I mean there was a point when what I had to write about was passionate, i.e moving to California. Or maybe what I wrote about was interesting or funny and that semi-justified whoring out the fact that I wrote a new blog and checking to see if I got any comments like an attention….I don’t like using different conjugations of the word whore twice in one sentence: it just sounds funny so I won’t do it.
There was a point when I wrote about something, and it wasn’t two dimensional. It was three dimensional in that you could read the words, you could get the story, and there would be an unusual format to them that would give that third dimension: B it something simpl lik subtracting th lttr “ “ from th sntnc to kp th writing intrsting. Maybe it was writing about my day in backwards format. I did that once and I enjoyed it. I started with what just happened and I proceeded to work back in time telling the story of my day up until the point I woke up, thus literally starting with the end and ending with the beginning, concluding that I shouldn’t even bother getting up today because it was so shitty. That really added a third dimension or level of creativity to the writing, and because of it I still remember writing that piece to this day while I forget about most of the other boring blogs I write; but this isn’t a blog. It’s a piece for myself. I’ve been meaning to write a “backwards day” blog but at the end of the day, nothing interesting (I just wrote and deleted and the re-wrote the word “enough” six times before deciding I would write about how I just wrote and then deleted the word “enough” six times, during which I chose the combination of words) at all and I didn’t want to write about nothing at all in the first or last place.
Hey ya know I actually like what I just wrote.