Writer's Block


I hate showering. It wastes time. Don’t you think so? It’s like a half hour.  That’s valuable time. I could be learning Latin in that time. I could be reading Shakespeare! And then you have to get into your clothes and I’m usually wet because who can take all that time to dry themselves.

It’s like going to the bathroom in the middle of the night after eating a big dinner. I don’t want to go! Then you start dreaming about going to the bathroom. Those dreams where everywhere you go the door to the bathroom is locked but someone named Batman has the only key but now you can’t find him and once you do and open the bathroom there’s someone there so now you have to find the other bathroom?

(for some reason this image comes from a government website)

Everyone else gets flying dreams. Or dreams where they have meaningful conversations with dead people. Like they wake up and say, “wow, I just spoke to my dead grandmother and we really cleared up a lot of issues about my career and my love life.”

I get on a five hour surreal search for a bathroom to take a crap in. It won’t stop. Then I have to pee. But I’m still too tired. I do not want to get out of bed. So my dreams continue. The next thing you know I’m in jail and everyone is just sitting around the only toilet in Cell Block H and I’m like, “I’ll just hold it in fellas, thanks.” And they are all like, “you better go to the bathroom.” But I won’t. I’m yelling at the guards, “I REALLY have to go the bathroom but I can’t go under these conditions. And what am I even being charged with? I’m innocent!”

But I’m not innocent. I’ve done very bad things. And I can’t hold it in anymore.

So finally I get up, half asleep. Which is a process. I have to unplug my ipad. Don’t you? And I bring it into the bathroom. So now I’m sitting there and checking email, facebook, twitter, my blog, google+ if I’m feeling particularly intellectual, and I have to read from at least two books. I have a stack of books there. And then I check emails again because you never know what additional emails came in between 2:34am and 2:45am.

(Paris Hilton didn't eat for weeks before her jail time so as to avoid going to the bathroom)

And then there’s all that wiping. Who invented these bodies? Why can’t I just implant my brain into a clone that has no liver, kidney, stomach, and intestines and only needs a battery. Wiping is just disgusting. When you’re sitting there like this how in a million years do you think anyone is going to love you?

And then I messed up. I’m too tired. Now I have to take a shower. Its 2:45am and I already mentioned I hate showers but now I must take one. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep like this.

So I take the shower. I even shave in the shower. Why not? If I cut myself (1 time out of 5) then by morning I will have bled a few pints and it will be ok. So now I’m clean like a baby. The body is a disgusting disgusting animal. If I could float above it all the time and maneuver it like a marionette puppet I would be much happier.

Now I try to go back to sleep. Claudia’s murmuring. She’s half conscious. “Ok?” she murmurs. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

But why did that one guy make that one comment on that one site about me? Did he really have to do that? Should I respond to him? Am I going to let him get away with that? Or maybe it’s a she because it’s anonymous. And, I got some nice emails. Should I respond to them right away?

And what happens if the world is ending. Someone somewhere somehow said something about Greece again. Isn’t that just a beach resort? Why is someone even talking about it? I am never in my life going to Greece. I don’t want to keep hearing about it in the same sentence as the words “debt” and “world ending”.  I’ve never even used a Euro. Who needs them? Are they better than ipads?

(I will never go there)

Ugh, I left my ipad in the bathroom? How am I going to wake up at 5am and check my email, twitter, facebook, blog, stats, etc on the edge of the bed pretending to sleep so Claudia can get up and make the coffee?

So I get up again to get the ipad. But maybe I should at least answer those emails. So I go downstairs and now I’m up.

I hit the “on” button on the coffee. When I say “Claudia makes me coffee” all I really mean is “Claudia presses the ‘on’ button on the coffee machine.” So now I’m up, I have coffee, I read, but it’s a little too early for me and I have writer’s block.

So I write this.



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