I can’t figure out why I have so little will to write.
I’ve tried to work on some erotica I wanted to get down – a piece based on real people I know that I started a while back. But I stared at the page and nothing happened.
I tried to get back to the Wanton sequel I have partly done but it again defies me. I know it’s gone in the wrong direction, but I can’t figure out if I need to toss the whole thing or if I can find where it goes wrong.
I feel like, the effort I put into all this, re-building and upgrading, that I should now be typing out great reams of creative work; somehow though the sheer amount of brain-power I put into that technological project last week seemed to leave me spent. It’s frustrating. The muse, as usual, won’t be commanded but comes when she’s ready. A though that reminds me of a story, but it’s someone else’s story.
Today, I am off to work at a Highland Games, selling Utilikilts. Normally something I love doing, but for some reason today I’m not that into it. I’d rather be doing nothing, or writing, or doing stupid shit around the house, or drinking and hanging out with friends. I’m sure that will change when I’m there and doing the sales thing, but now — I’d rather be sleeping.
But maybe I’ll go buy a new kilt today. You can’t have too many kilts.