Writer’s Block
Every time I sit down and try to write something about The War, it comes out sounding like crap. Either that or it just refuses to come out at all. I’ve heard all the claptrap over the years about how artists do their best work when they’re depressed, but I can’t seem to create anything about The War. As the world situation gets more serious, I find myself taking refuge in stories about talking fish and flying sheep skulls. In past wars, I would spend my time listening to the BBC World Service on my shortwave radio. This time, I seek out things like Radio Tanzania Zanzibar, who play great music and who speak in Swahili, which I can’t understand. This is an odd situation for a long time news junkie like me to be in. I dunno, maybe it’s that I’m getting married in a matter of weeks and I don’t want to think about anything that could place a pall over that.
I don’t like what’s happening to my country. I loathe the people responsible for that. But I don’t see that there’s anything I can do. Even my vote doesn’t count any more. Posting incensed articles to my blog about the whole mess seems pointless too.
So I think I’ll just keep reading silly articles and trying to escape from the nightmare that is the daily news, and working on the wedding, and listening to people talk in languages I don’t understand. At least I know why I don’t understand them; I can’t figure out why I don’t understand what comes out of Washington.
Posted at 3:06 AM