Where's the boy with the chemicals?

[sovay]

Here we have the obligatory writer's sulk.

I went to bed early, because I'm several days underslept, overdosed on human company, and slightly feverish; and I'm still awake, because my brain is stalled out. I have a photograph that my father asked me to write about, a quotation from H.D., and a quotation from T.S. Eliot. I can feel how they all fit together. (The working title is "The Salt House.") I've got no words. So I'm set to "creative," but there's nothing there: this is very frustrating.

It smells like burning tires outside. There are periodic male shouts and high-pitched female laughter. I can only hope this means the fraternities across the street are engaged in some sort of exciting sacrificial ritual that will thin their numbers and leave fewer impediments to my sleep on the weekends, but I rather doubt it.

Alas.

Comments

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

I've got no words. So I'm set to "creative," but there's nothing there: this is very frustrating.

That's the story of my life.

My sympathies.

Nine

[kraada.livejournal.com]

Well, in terms of chemicals I've got some dihidryogen monoxide, some C12H22O11 hanging around . . . pretty sure I could dredge up some sodium bicarbonate. Fresh out of citric and ascorbic acid I'm afraid (blame captainbutler, he drank all of it).

As to finding inspiration . . . having the power just completely go out for about 45 minutes and sitting on the futon in the dark just worked pretty well for me. (And said poem will probably get completed after this post and hit my poetry list sometime tonight.)

Though I don't recommend blowing a fuse just to test the theory . . . in terms of new amusing fun things, I was working through http://tipthepizzaguy.com/ when the power went out . . . though I think the traffic from Fark has been giving them issues (I'm getting weird SQL errors now . . . which is sad, because the stories were good). . .

[tamaranth.livejournal.com]

I know what you mean about the well being empty. When I feel like this, I free-associate, or write word-lists, or thousand-word run-on sentences .... Sometimes new ideas come out of hiding (memorably, the short story that emerged last winter when I went round the house testing every pen by writing a single sentence with it). Sometimes, it's just nice when you stop!

[justbeast.livejournal.com]

> I can only hope this means the fraternities across the street are engaged in
> some sort of exciting sacrificial ritual that will thin their numbers and
> leave fewer impediments to my sleep

You come up with the /best/ ideas!

[clarionj.livejournal.com]

I agree with all the tips/responses given here already, but my reaction when I read the post was that you've already written something. Just this-- this complaint, admission, question--is evocative, starting with the heading (now I'm singing Bright Eyes), to the suggestion of a photo to go with H.D. and Eliot (jeez, that has me going), the tires burning, and the wonderful way only you can ask for sleep. Any chance you'd post the quotations? Oh, that's okay. I can pull a book from my shelf.

[erzebet.livejournal.com]

Alas. I don't think their numbers will thin any time soon.

More's the pity.