Monday, June 09, 2008


I desperately want to write something funny and insightful and delightfully readable, but I can't. Partly because of the slightly hollow paradox I described in my previous post, where real insights are reserved for the self and partly because I have a severe case of writer's block. You know? Mental constipation of the worst kind. The kind where you sit there for hours waiting for it, pushing for it and then finally giving up and pretend washing.

In the words of a not so wise man

"Why'd you have to go and get me so constipated" - Weird Al on Avril Lavigne (a meeting of the minds indeed)

Maybe I need more food for thought.


"When the only tool you have is a hammer, everything starts resembling a nail."

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