i HaTE WritER's BLocK - ReAlLy BAD!

SIGH.....

Writer's Block is a big green scaly monster that lurks under every writer's bed.  For some writers the nemesis choses to lurk in their closet.  Where ever it resides, it picks the place that it can leap out from and thus stop the writer's heart to the greatest effect.  (Writer's block tends to be kind a Drama Queen!)  It has a single big yellow fang that it pulls from its mouth and polishes it  with a rusty Brillo Pad, septic from being immersed in poison ink and yellow journalism. It uses this weapon with great effect ramming it through reams of paper, or in the digital age, piles of 0's and 1's thus blocking any progress on the great American novel, or in some cases a hilarious blog.  It has eleven yellow eyes that can bore through one's soul.  In short, writer's block is 100% bleach pure evil!

Now if I were a writer, I don't even play one on television, my Writer's Block would not have a name.  It would likely have a symbol, kind of like Prince, "The Pernicious Evil Formerly Known as Writer's Block."  Come to think of it, my Writer's Block looks surprisingly like "The Artist Formerly Known As Prince."  Weird.  Writer's Block's symbol would look surprisingly like interlinked capitol letter "M"s  M.M. as it were.

As of late M.M. and I have come to blows.  I am sure that if you are one the seven people who read my blog (You know who you are!) you will have noticed a lack of new material.  All of this can be attributed to M.M.  He doesn't really care for me, and after our nine year relationship I am not very fond of him either.  He actually resides eighth in my list of least favorite things, right behind Iceland.  But as they say in the music biz "He is number 1 with a bullet!" 

M.M. is a necessary evil.  Without him I don't eat.  The problem is that with him I can feel my spirit dying a slow painful death.

The fault is mostly my own.  I am so very much like the grasshopper in the Grasshopper and the Ants parable.  I tend to take things one day at a time and roll with punches as they come.  Meaning I fail to plan.  That's all well and good until you feel your spirit being crushed and there is no escape plan.  Or until you have nothing to eat.

It's a strange paradox.

So to my readers (All seven of you!)  I apologize for two things:  One, there is a lot more "DRAMA" in this post than my usual postings.  Second, if you were looking forward to more of my writing and haven't seen anything for awhile and you were saying "Where the heck is Chris and his writing?" (I tend to dream big!  It's that grasshopper in me.) I will remedy both situations post haste!

In my war against M.M. I am beginning to make some headway.  I am writing again.  That is the best.  Writing to me is very cathartic.  I also  have gotten the cameras out and I am taking pictures again.  Photography is very right brained and has always been one on my loves.  It tends to open up those right brained doors that M.M. closes.

I thank you all for your patience.  And mostly I thank you all for taking the time to read.  It really means the world to me.  And, hopefully, if I make you smile or even laugh all the better!