A Thousand Apologies

I . . . I've got nothing. There's nothing happening other than soul crushing labor bullshit and I have already said my piece on that. I had an idea swirling around my head but I can't get it to come together and my brain feels tired and abused and I don't want to just half-ass something because goddammit, I have an internet reputation to uphold. That was a joke, by the way, lest you think that I have begun to take myself too seriously. I am creatively barren at the moment and don't have a fucking clue what to write about. I am pouring too much energy into other projects at the moment, some of which have yet to see the light of day and probably won't ever see the light of day unless some fearless agent falls under my spell, in which case these mysterious "other" projects may see the light of day a couple of years from now. Fuck it, I'm sorry. I'm just rambling now about shit that you don't care about at all but I just wanted to at least throw something up here today, especially since I tweeted (Jesus . . . what a ridiculous word.) last night that I would have something. But it turns out that I lied. As I mentioned on twitter, I was kidnapped by a vicious biker gang who chained me to the back of their bikes and dragged me around town, howling like lunatics and verbally degrading me with horrible taunts. After they had enough of that, they dumped me in an abandoned quarry, beat me with sticks and tire rods and then dumped gasoline on me and threatened to light me on fire. I wept and begged for mercy and I even pissed myself, but those girl scouts were vicious and mean and they refused to let me go until the sun finally peaked above the horizon and they had to ride their bikes back to school so they didn't miss English class. I can still hear the sound of their bells ringing in the distance as they rode away, laughing and swearing at me, and I know that I will have nightmares about their leader threatening to sever my head and keep it as a souvenir in the little basket on the front of her cheap little bicycle. She said that she was "sick of these ugly plastic flowers" and that the basket would look much better decorated with my blood. Horrible, just horrible. Anyway, that's why I didn't post anything yesterday even though Thursdays seem to have become my default Armchair Linebacker day in this, the wretched offseason.

I don't know what the weekend will bring, so no promises there either. It's possible that I will be hunted down by that vicious gang once more. After all, they told me that they knew where I lived because I had ordered cookies from them one time and I cursed myself for my careless folly. Who knows? But if I find the time and inspiration manages to strike, then I will try to write something and get it up here before the weekend is through. Like I said, though, no promises. I hate planning out what I'm going to write. I feel incredibly comfortable just doing this kind of shit. I can write and write and write all day long, and I suppose creativity isn't really the problem. The problem is focused creativity, I guess. But again, I am just gibbering about shit that you don't care about and so I suppose I'll just stop now.