Okay. I’m writer’s blocked. I can’t write anything that’s not incredibly trite or overdone or stupid or misspelled or ridiculous or dated or clich餠or fake-deep or fake-funny or fake-pensive or isn’t totally copying someone else who is good and actually knows how to write. Unlike me. Who has writer’s block. Is it stupid and clich餠to try to write an entry about why you can’t seem to write an entry? I fear it is.
There’s all this horrible hate crime stuff happening at my poor colleges and I tried to write about that because it’s a serious subject that affects me personally and about which I am quite concerned. I gave up when I used the phrase “heart of darkness” to describe a liberal arts campus. I thought about writing about how my delts are really sore, man, since I went to the gym on Wednesday, and then, like, how I went to the gym again this morning. Nothing. Nothing to write about there. I just read Tomato Nation and she mentioned Phantom Planet and then I was going to write about how a couple of them went to my college and they sent in a tape of themselves singing for their college admissions. But that’s it. That’s the story. I haven’t even heard them on the radio, although the one time I saw them play they did a very nice cover of “Sabotage.”
Nothing to write about, no good way to write about that nothing, nothing new, nothing interesting, nothing luminous or hysterical or poignant, nothing that’s going to make you write me an email with the subject line “Me too!!!!”, nothing that ‘s going to make me think, later, in a self-congratulatory way, that I really hit it on that one there. I’m considering going home and eating some more soap this afternoon because as I look back on that entry I now find it to be the pinnacle of all my efforts.
Have some friends coming in this weekend, can’t write much about that. Going to a wedding too, nothing to say about that right now. Turning twenty-nine next week…I guess maybe next Wednesday I’ll be able to hack something up that starts with “So I turn twenty-nine in two days” and goes on to explicate all the ways I feel I have not lived up to the potential I exhibited once upon a time. Perhaps I’ll reflect back on my nineteenth birthday and also upon my ninth, which I don’t recall very well but that I’m pretty sure was the year that we went to Six Flags Atlantis except it was two days before my birthday so it was St. Patrick’s Day and my bathing suit didn’t have green on it so everyone pinched me. Probably I’ll mention something political since the war started on my birthday last year.
I hate this. I feel like I haven’t had much to say over the last few weeks, even the last few months, but I keep writing these little short entries hoping that if I just keep writing something good will come out of my keyboard. I don’t think it’s working. I am driving myself crazy over here.