I smell desperation and trip over my feet running from my mind. The fiction contest, now known as the friction contest, left me spent without the purchase of a story. I did not submit but in the process came across the most severe form of writer's block I have ever experienced. It is the catch twenty-two. I cannot write so I force myself to write which after reading proves I cannot write which makes me write more which offers greater evidence until finally I consider landscape architecture. Then I look at my front yard and hit the whiskey.
I think this must be where I pause for applause. Way to go, self, you slid into first. So I am out and I am at the bench again watching other players take the game. It's okay. Sometimes the lessons we learn are more valuable than the win could have ever been. Or at least that is what we tell ourselves as we warm the bench, get sent back down to the minors and practice the fundamentals. Maybe, just maybe one day we find out all we needed to remember is how much we enjoyed the game.
This, this blogging thing, I enjoy it.
Thus, I am grateful.