Oh, my. I've really let this blog escape me, haven't I? Well, that's what happens when you're out, trying to live your life--trying to make shit happen. It's an interesting balance, this writerly thing, you know? Like, if you're constantly writing, then when do you have the chance to go out and glean some experience? And then if you're out mucking around, when do you find the time to sit down and pontificate about it?
That's why I was just about to pop in this Netflix DVD--"Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride"--that I've had for eons and haven't had a chance to watch yet. Yeah, it's a doc about the life of Hunter S. Thompson, who did somehow manage to do both, you know, rather well. Um, until he shot himself. Anyhow, I figured I could use the inspiration. Or anti-inspiration, as the case may be--so the blog would yet again have to wait. But then the guilt, the awful guilt...
Aw, crap.
Okay, where do I begin?
Hmm...
No comments:
Post a Comment