Have you ever had writer’s block? Not just “I don’t know how to start/work on/finish this essay” type writer’s block. I’m talking about full on “I can’t write a sentence that inspires me to write another let alone read the first” style writer’s block. If you know what I’m talking about, well then high five my friend. If you don’t know what I’m talking about – you suck and may the Muses desert you in your time of need.
That’s write… err… right, I have had a severe and unrelenting inability to compose anything even slightly readable. It isn’t as if I have a grave shortage of topics: India itself provides me with a multitude every time I step outside, from annoying beggars who can’t take a growl for a hint to stupid workmen who think that I haven’t managed to pick up any Hindi in the last 9 months and don’t understand it when they insult me to my face. No, there’s lots to talk about – I just don’t know how.
Shall I describe how perfect the weather is despite the fact that the thermometer reads 35 degrees Celsius? But then I’d have to admit that I’m forever sweating when we go out for walks in the afternoon. Of course that would require a moment of honesty in admitting that I don’t actually walk outside much unless I have to. Which would require a bit of self-defense since I’m not a lazy git (Shut up, Hubby!), it’s just really bloody hot outside and I hate sweating. But then I’d look at my initial statement about the nice weather and realize that due to my spate of honesty, I’d have to scrap the entire blog due to the fact that its premise, while partially true, isn’t entirely true unless one takes into account how lovely and cool my apartment can be. (Of course then I’d have to admit and realize simultaneously that that was the longest run-on sentence ever.)
So you can see where this abandonment by fickle Muses is getting on my nerves. I mean, it isn’t as if I’m trying to comment on anything quite so intellectual as the Shrub’s many wars, the annual seal hunt in my Maple Leaf waving home of Canada, or even something as silly yet intriguing as South Park’s Chefgate. I just want to wax poetic (dang I'll even take unpoetic) about the hotness of cricket players in Australia, the blissfulness of eating at Il Diva in GK2, and Hubby’s weird new obsession with the movie “Shaun of the Dead.”
So Dearest Reader, I apologize for my lack of blogs this week, I did, after all, promise to write to you more regularly. But until Little Miss Muse gets back from her vacation, I am without ability to write coherently or even incoherently about anything of interest to either of us. Sorry ‘bout that.