BLOCKED!
I realize I haven’t been blogging much these days. Mostly because I have writer’s block. It’s pretty bad. Really bad. I’m having problems. And it’s not like one of those problems you can throw money at or one of those problems where you can just amputate something or one of those problems you can just throw something out and start over like a souffle or a custard. What do you do when your brain refuses to help you out? I say, hey brain, let’s write about this, and the brain says, I have an idea, why don’t I suckerpunch you in the face or stick a shiv in your gut. Pow! And then I say, but brain, seriously, it’s time to get serious. We need to write something that doesn’t suck and the brain is like, oh my god, you totally need to handwash that scarf right now.
So I handwash that scarf and now it’s ruined. The yarn is like falling apart, I guess the detergent was too heavy duty (Sorry Erin, it was the one you made me).
So then I’m like, OK brain, let’s do this. I’m totally serious this time. We’re gonna squeeze something out. We will write anything. We’ll write an essay, or a letter, or EVEN A PIECE OF FICTION GOOD GOD HOW HORRIFYING and then my brain is like, you know, this isn’t working out. I want to break up with you. I want to see other people. And I’m like, dude you can’t leave me just because things are tough, we’ve been together for a long time, for as long as I can remember, you can’t do this to me and my brain is like oh yeah? Watch me. Then I hear the door slam and if I (only) had a brain, I’d think oh my god, I think my brain just left me and is never coming back. I mean if I were my brain, I’d leave too.
So now my brain is totally at the club,doing the cabbage patch on the dance floor, doing coke with, like, everyone from Gossip Girl and probably getting it on with James Franco or Peter Petrelli from Heroes and I’m sitting here, with a wet scarf on my table. The good news is that I washed the walls in the bathroom so now they’re not as moldy.
So hello, friends. If you see my brain, tell her I miss her and want to get back together again. We’re meant to be together, like Hall and Oates.
Oh no… I kind of woke up next to a brain this morning and I think it might be… I’m so sorry, I had no idea it was yours. I would never have done this. I was drunk and I didn’t realize… don’t hate me?
Back at the Sculpture Academy, I asked my colleagues Huckleberry and Mudflap what they do when they can’t think of anything to make. Huckleberry said, “Boxes. I make boxes, Pony. I make wooden boxes until I can think of something better to make.” Mudflap just stared at me for a moment, then walked away.
Many peoples find their relationships with their brains stuck in a rut after they’ve been together for a while. Here are some ways to rekindle the fires of love:
*Communication is key to any relationship. Put down those binoculars, march right over there, and introduce yourself.
*Try buying your brain that hat she’s always wanted, and then throwing it in the ocean to show that your love is more important than material things.
*Fresh fruit, fine wine and seafood are all known to arouse the passions in the brain.
*Please, for the love of God, just stop doing that weird chewing thing with your mouth.
*Why not make a little game out of who is smarter, with the loser having to clean the bathroom for a year?
Annie,
Have you tried drinking a lot? Seriously, I think it works. Hemingway, Faulkner, Steinbeck. helps with the ol’ creativity, toots. Unlocks it like a cork from a bottle…pop! and out come all the sticky-sweet hot aching ideas we all pay you for, sweetheart.
It may be that one drinks because one writes or that one writes because one drinks or that one drinks anyway without writing even a word ’cause “screw the writing who writes? not me” or drinks by coincidence or that drinking and writing have nothing in common at all but are simply coincidental without causation or effect or p’haps these people who are so jolly well known for their creativity and alcohol-affection-ism are not even real people at-all but are made-up characters from the brains of someone who oh never mind go mix yourself a scotch and water it’s GOOOD for you
funny, I always figured your brain was a “he.”
Whatever you do, don’t tell your physician you’re “blocked.” Her solution will likely be uncreative and uncomfortable.
If my brain finds out that your brain is responsible for killing the scarf it created, your brain is going to have bigger problems than waking up in the morning next to Anna and not knowing how it got there.
Kick that bitch to the curb and find a brain that will meet your needs and write something!
Don’t worry. After your brain has finished carousing, it will come home, begging for forgiveness and asking you to take it back. Just wait and see. BTW, when it comes back, play hard to get for at least 15 minutes.
would you pay money to get it back? not sure it was a good idea to kidnap it after all
I dunno about your brain but my brain just died laughing.. or maybe I just sneezed it out? Either way its unconsciously laying on the floor.
You’re funny, I need to go read your book.
Anna: I’d like my brain back please. You can mail it. NO need to FedEx though, so expensive.
Pony: Mudflap and I are gonna get beers later. We’re calling up Chazz and the Hammer. Wanna join?
Jon: I think my brain broke up with me.
LilGerman: I tried drinking, it just makes me sleep. I need to find the perfect balance of alcohol and productivity. This will take a lot of practice, no doubt.
Ramon: Yeah I suppose it could be a he. Hard to say. I never checked out the goods, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.
VK: I don’t think my block is covered by my health insurance.
Erin: Sorry. It was the olive green scarf. I’m still wearing the blue-green one, which is nice, but not nearly as nice as the other one. It looks like a furry green dreadlock. Sorry.
Ms. Biz I’m gonna cut that bitch up!
JimBob: I think my brain’s left for good. Seeing other people.
Pedro: I would pay ONE Euro. THat’s all I have left after buying my computer.
Nanako: If your brain is on the floor, then maybe I should use it. I mean it’ just sitting there, someone should use it.
That brain-on-the-floor thing reminded me of a story from my ex-roommate the SWAT cop. He went into a house after an afternoon of negotiating with the owner to unbarricade himself. The house had been silent for some time, so they decided to enter. Making their way through the home, they located their subject in the kitchen. The guy had placed the muzzle of his large-caliber revolver against the roof of his mouth and pulled the trigger. The thing that made this call different was that, unlike most suicides of this variety, dude had literally blown his brain out…in one piece. It was setting there next to him in the kitchen floor like a museum-piece; all pink and shiny…my buddy gave it a little nudge with his boot and it slipped smoothly across the linoleum, leaving a trail like a snail on glass…