Saturday, April 3, 2010

EBLANK

WHEN I SAW THE TITLE OF THIS POST I THOUGHT I HAD INTENTIONALLY LEFT A PAGE BLANK. HOPES DASHED. One of the most difficult parts of maintaining an institution like LA is that one periodically comes upon days when one has no interest in doing so.LIKE JUST ABOUT EVERY DAY. This is what separates the men from the boys.NO, THE MEN HAVE BIGGER PENISES. I could just have bagged the enterprise today, read the newspaper and spent the day as normally as I am capable of doing.(PICKING YOUR NOSE, PERHAPS?) But the little doohickey in the back of my brain said, "Don't skip today because it might encourage you to skip tomorrow and then weeks may go by and you will one day look at your handiwork and go 'Damn, this is good. Why the fuck did you stop doing it?'AND PENIES MAY FALL FROM HEAVEN. This is admittedly an unlikely scenario. But not having any particular interest in writing LA today is unlikely to result in any great difference from when I can't wait to get my fingers on the keyboard, although I do periodically have completely unjustified days when I think I am actually doing something significant.I WAS GOING TO DELETE THIS LAST SENTENCE BUT I LET IT REMAIN AS AN EXAMPLE OF HOW STUPID I CAN GET. IT'S UP THERE WITH THE MOST REPETITIOUS AND IDIOTIC. These days usually pass quickly with or without medication. If LA were a 500 page book I would be on page 211 now-- a hefty way to go before I get to the middle and no idea how the character I introduced at the beginning is going to interact with the character I introduced on page 125 which could pose a problem for the murder-suicide pact that is the climax of the novel and inspired it.THIS APPEARS TO BE A LAME ATTEMPT AT HUMOR On the other hand, what makes it easy to write LA when you don'T particularly feel like it is that in a matter of a sentence or two you are back in the thick of it. The only difference is that rather than complain about the concept of the whole thing, you complain about the 15 minutes it is taking from your life.ASSUMING ONE HAS ONE But Art is a hard taskmaster. I can't believe how quickly this entry is going and I do feel obliged to leave you with something more than the fact that I had no interest in writing it, which probably does not make you feel good about yourself--it's as if you're getting sloppy seconds or something. "OR SOMETHING," THE QUALITY OF THIS PROSE OVERWHELMS. Suppose I leave you with an inspirational thought that there are things in your own life that you don't feel like doing and sometimes when you do them you feel less worse than when you don't do them. I can also leave you with the thought that the whole is neither more nor less than the sum of its parts and if I didn't post today, when I posted tomorrow (assuming I did), I would be one day shy and in the mists of time LA might have been deprived of the bang-up ending it no doubt will have, besides being just one page shorter.Struggle over. Post completed. Limp wisdom given. Reader goes off to her no doubt exciting life. LA writer ponders whether he has fucked the whole thing up with a post even dumber than usual. IF YOU ARE PONDERING, YOU ARE EVEN DUMBER THAN I THOUGHT, WHICH IS TOUGH.

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