Write Right? Yer Bloody Well Write

I am supposed to be writing a paper, I am supposed to be writing lyrics to like, 15 songs that are waiting, I’m supposed to be writing for the writing group, I’m supposed to be writing for this, for my own my personal satisfaction, I’m supposed to be writing for Poetry Club.
I am not writing. (As I’m sure you have noticed.)

I’m smoking like I am. I’m not doing common domestic stuff as if I was in “the vortex”. I am experiencing all the lack of other discipline that would seem to indicate the need to feed the creative beast.

Either some kind of frenzy is lurking around the corner and I’m gearing up for it, or I’m in a slump.

I have, however, been cooking my butt off. You should have tasted my stuffing last week, ok two weeks ago, it was a miracle. Perhaps there is some cosmic rule that I can only create unidirectionally. But I want to be fully renaissance though. One of those Clive Barker, Nitro Von Borax, UBU, and dare I say it, Maynard, types who can be creative in 6 directions at once.

Wah wah wah. It sucks to be, limited me.