2004-09-21
Falling Asleep Where I Sit

hearing: nothing
reading: In The Days of the Comet by H.G. Wells
feeling: bland and uninspired

I'm feeling so dead. So anti creative and stifled. Everything I can think to put my hands to is coming to naught.

My efforts to write my American Government paper only drew blank bullets from the shotgun of my intellect.

I turned to a story I found in the notebook which I was using for writing rough drafts. It was, in fact, the Lady Suicide story. I read it over and immediately realized what was so wrong with it and exactly what needed to be written in to make it truely breathtaking. But no words flowed from my brain to make my vision aright.

Here I feel I need to make an interspersement. It is these writing dry spells which make me realize how much I fear a device which would draw my inner thoughts and visions for a creation, and put them to paper or canvas for me. It takes the middle ground out. The real skill and beauty. The formation, the work of the hands. Near half of the talent of an artist in any medium, is their ability to shape intangible thoughts, visions and words into creations. When the unfathomable can be imagined and automatically translated into being by a mechanical device... It is a mockery. It is a travesty. I don't think it could be done anyway. I am almost confident it couldn't be. I'll kill the first person who tries to create such a device. I could never in good conscious see something like that marketed and sold without having put up a good fight to eliminate it from existence.

Back on topic, since I could not write, I figured I could, at least, read. I plucked up the book I am most recently reading and began it. Not two and a half sentences in, I yawned gapingly and my abstracted mind shoved it aside and forced my physical being to do the same.

I rolled about and off my bed and decided I could set to work on the splash page for my website. I had a good idea of what I wanted...

But tonight, it could not formulate completely. I made some half hearted attempts but again, I simply could not do this either. I had no heart or creativity for it.

I am too exhausted. I have reached the point where I am so tired, that the side of my brain which controls my demiurgic, does not seem to be capable of functioning any more. It has shut down. Its trying to get the rest which I will not grant it.

I cannot help... for now I am waiting for a download to finish. And then I am out...that's it... I am finished for the night. And then I wish I could sleep all tomorrow. I have yet so much to do. But I don't want to have done. I need rest. I am so exhausted physically and emotionally. I have put too much stress upon myself lately. I just want to contract a few worry, guilt free days for myself to rest. Sleep. Sleep a lot. And maybe write a little. Just a little recuperation...just a little rest...

before & & after