Wasting Time and Energy

What was I saying about 500 words a day? [Clears throat.]  I guess life got away.  I mean there was a blizzard.  According to some, the worst blizzard since they kept records of those things.  And then there was my cold; the second one in three months, which is kind of weird because I don’t get a lot of colds.  There was Bonnie’s fall; and the fight we had about Sharon yesterday.

So all in all, I have some excuses.  But not really.

I saw a putrid movie about the difficulty of writing the other evening, The Shadow Dancers.  In it Harvey Keitel (whose talent seems to get worse rather than better with age) plays a J.D. Salingeresque writer hiding out in an absolutely stunning Tuscan village cum Cicely, Alaska or Stars Hollow, Connecticut.  This Italian village is simply lousy with colorful characters who are devoted to Harvey.

Shitty movie, yes, but the plot hinges on his inability to sit down and write something more after the phenomenal success of his first novel.  They showed him weeping at the sight of his portable typewriter.  Me? I just screamed, “Just start typing, you fucking moron!”

That’s my theory.  That’s why I’m here.  I’m just typing and hoping something will emerge.

[At this point in the narrative, I decided I needed a shower.]

Ah yes, clean.  Now I’m clean and hoping for something to trickle down these fingers and onto this page.

Hmmmmm….I think I’ll call my sisters.

[I did. Another 45 minutes with nothing written.]

Where was I? Oh yes, the movie.  There’s a better movie that I saw this week.  Oh hell, I’m hungry.  I’ll meet you in the kitchen.