A funk.

It happens to the best of us. The beast, that bastard, catches us in its jaws and shakes every last grand idea, the tiniest of thoughts; it shakes us until we are devoid of even the most insignificant of words (plop, there's an is, then a the, dribble goes the we's, ouf all the way down to the last me's and the I's).

Yes I have discussed this before. The bastard (aka the beast, aka writer's block) is a recurring character, a favorite subject. And why not? I have been trying my best to update this blog regularly. I had been on quite a roll. Subjects and ideas seemed to tumble from the heavens. I was in a creative zone. I was having a blast, I was in writer's bliss. If only I would learn to pace myself. But that is not my style, if the words are at my fingertips, I have to put them on screen. I have a crappy short term memory. If I don't spit out ideas when I get them, they might be lost forever. We can't have that now can we?

The bastard caught up to me on Monday morning. I knew he was coming. I have grown accustomed to that void feeling. The feeling of a fragmented mind. The inability to focus on any one theme or idea. My mind races. Mania, it SUCKS!

What was I to do?

The only thing I can do when I am in the midst of a battle with the beast, is to chronicle that battle. It's my only defense. The only counter I have is to write through it. Write despite it. If that means I write a variation of the same post over and over and over again, so be it, at least I am writing. If I am writing then the bastard is losing. It sounds crazy, but I swear to gawd it works.

I am off the ropes, I have the bastard in the middle of the ring. Punches are being tossed by both sides. The battle is far from over, but I think the good guys might win. WHAM, POW, BASH!