I sit in front of the mocking glow of the computer screen with my legs crossed, right over the left. My brow furrows, my fingers sleep on black keys, and nothing but a thought echoes between plastic headphones: What the f*** am I going to write on my blog!?
Inner thigh itches. Lingering minutes that refuses to pass buzzes about annoyingly. I scan my faux-wood desk looking for beautiful inspiration, but find none. An empty glass, miniature men & women, and papers strewn about is all was spotted. My knee itches. I am reminded of the thousand-and-one mosquitoes my friends and I encountered at the park earlier that day. How I hate the tiny pricks.
A yawn washes over my body at 1:04 am. I stretch as many muscles to the tune of the blissful yawn, because I know the moment to follow would be a completely relaxing feeling. A thought comes to me, hasten by the fact I should get some sleep. It whispers: take the last seven seconds and stretch it into three paragraphs of filler. Keys dance without hesitation. A barely audible titter escapes my mouth, finding humour in the fact that someone will see through my sad attempt at being a writer. With sleep beckoning to me, I'm sure there will be spelling and grammatical errors, but I don't care. I have finished a post, ending several days of creative drought on my blog.
SONG OF THE DAY
Raveonettes - That Great Love Sound
Monday, June 28, 2004
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