Inarticulate

There. It's happening again. Just when I need that artistic, linguistic part of myself. It clawed itself away, so deep down, draining away life from every other corner. It's more than 12 feet underneath now.

Classics writer's block. Not without a slight twist though. I have ideas, just no words. At least, it's damn well not flowing as it should be. I blame everything. The lack of privacy, indolence (would rather not wash my face and stay in bed if decency would permit it!), and just no mood.

Should add though that this issue - lack of enthusiasm to write - happens only when I'm EXPECTED to write something. I just can't form sentences, even incoherent ones.

As when one is expected to write something, there's a bloody hell DATELINE to meet. And I just don't know why datelines and I, whenever the creative thinking cap is needed, just can't see eye to eye.

The last time this happened, I ended up completing my personal statement just 2 days before it was time to submit my university application form. I tell you, it took me a day - totally unjustified since I was VERY happy with it when my peers took months and had done away with at least a dozen drafts.

When I woke up this morning, I promised myself to sit, staring at a blank computer screen and start forming sentences. I procrastinated, so, day turned into night, then I switched the TV on and Under The Tuscan Sun was about to be aired in 10 minutes. Oh, bless my luck, or, should I?

Should I put myself, at least the barren creative self under pressure or, should I take an easier road and be graced with Diane Lane as my walking mate?

To the yellow brick road I say!

The sky, house, road and everything else had a tinge of that healthy yellow-orange hue, characteristic of the romantic European countryside of Tuscany. Italy wouldn't be Italy if not for their men, so they say. Ahoy! I agree absolutely. Recovering from a divorce, she finally meets - gasp - a prince - or is it? Why does pleasure come so easy in movies? All she had to do was invite him to sleep with her!

Blasphemous! (to every granny out there). How nice if things could be so direct! (to me).
Oh, I'm doing it again! The horny self is surfacing - actually, I'm beginning to belief that it's ever-present.
True, bloody true love waits.

Wait Priya, WAIT!

By the by, I haven't any clue on how I'm going to do what is expected of me. I don't like my initial spurt. Dead! Dead! Dead!


Current music: David Bowie and Queens's Under pressure.