Hmmm… what to write tonight? The thoughts went through my head in a big jumbled mess, not much in the way of cohesion or anything remotely interesting. I struggled to come up with a plot or storyline that wasn’t related to my breakup in some form or another. After all I mused, a writer has to come up with new ideas if they are going to give their audience something fresh to mull over.
So I sat in front of the screen with a very serious look on my face, desperately trying to pull some creativity out of my arse. What would Hunter S do? What would John Birmingham do? I wondered if my heroes ever had this problem. It’s almost impotency for a writer when they can’t find something to write about. Creativity is so closely linked with our mojo, that it can be seriously ego damaging when the words won’t come. Now would be the time for a shot of hard liquor, or some hard drugs, I said to myself! Strong drink always gives a stiff jolt to get kickstarted, except that my heart wasn’t in it, besides which I promised someone that I wouldn’t do that anymore.
Then I remembered the news story I read early on in the day about a 35 year old woman in New South Wales who got arrested for fucking a horse! For a moment I felt sorry for the poor lady. Whatever problems I was having, they weren’t bad enough to make me want to crawl under a foor legged farm animal and spear myself with it’s 5 foot sex organ. I started to try to think of what would make me do that, and nothing came to mind. My sympathy for her quickly turned into total bewilderment. Why on earth would anyone fuck a horse? Hmmm… In the end I thought it best not to go there just in case I came up with something, after all there are worse things than not knowing!
Okay, so if I couldn’t talk about the horse fucking incident in Lismore, I had to come up with something else. But what?! I looked vainly around the room for some help or inspiration. At the corner of my table there were four books on screenwriting/screenplay development, a copy of American Psycho, and a new press version of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. There was also a cdrom labelled ‘VERY NASTY PORN’! Yes, this might prove interesting, a little voice inside my head said to me. All in the interests of literature mind you, I wasn’t going to watch it for myself, only because I badly needed some inspiration! I didn’t hear anything from my conservative conscience, so I figured my justification was fair enough. Well either that, or he just wanted to see exactly what was on the VERY NASTY PORN disc as much as what me and the devil on my shoulder did. All three of us went silent with anticipation as we put the disc in the drive.
A cyclic redundancy check (CRC) checksum error occurred…
You have to be kidding! I’m a good person, I pay my taxes, I support greenpeace, why is this happening to me?! God was being very cruel indeed. I told him that the people that would really suffer would be my readers. Because instead of inspired writing I was going to have to fall back on ranting, something I seem to be doing more and more often these days.
So I decided that the only to do was put fingers to keys and get something out. In the end, maybe someone would get a laugh out of it, and I could desperately use putting a smile on someones face. I’m kind of stuck in that grey zone where everything is overlayed with a sepia tone effect where the colour is all washed out. I feel like I’m like that too. Looking into a mirror I see this face staring back at me, but the eyes, they look different, and I get the feeling I don’t recognise them.
Do we see the world the way it is, or is the world different for all of us because we all wear our own lenses of perception that colour the world the way we subconsciously want? I asked myself that question, but I only got silence for an answer. I told myself maybe I’ll get answer tomorrow, so, just like Grandma Death I’ll wait, and come back then.
Padwanna!
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