elanamatic: Paralyzed It's not quite writer's block but something larger, stronger, and more uncomfortable. I want to write all the time and yet I deny myself this unburdening. I think it must be the fear. I can't seem to address my thoughts in a succinct manner and rather then fail, I fail to try. I know the solution is to just plunge right in, so I am..
Spent the last week on the couch getting hot and heavy with the remote, the Kleenex and the largely assexula hosts of the Food Network. Daytime television is serioulsy lacking! My head too muddled with snot to move, I flipped between MuchMusic and a bunch o' oldies but goodies like Law & Order and Friends. The highlight of my day was guessing who would be on Oprah.
The irony is that in the three weeks previous in which I continue to be work-free, I had not flicked on the boob even once to catch the daytime doldrum. This flu really drained my batteries. I was immobilized.
There is a part of me these days that really resists any kind of story that makes me want to cry, be it TV, books or movies. It's just that life is too short and filled with too much unnecessary pain, so when I escape I want to fly above all the horseshit and forget.
Saying all that, I went to see Fahrenheit 9/11 last night. I had too. I couldn't wait. I didn't want to risk someone else influencing my reaction. It was one of the most gut-twisting movies I have ever seen. A bulldozer documentary. Moore is such a master storyteller that I have a hard time differentiating the cold hard facts from the spell he spins. Most of it shocked the hell out of me. Some of it I already knew. All of it moved me.
