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Aye, and there's the rub
Tuesday, July 26th, 2005 11:17 pmMarvellous how things work out, isn't it? More precisely, it's marvellous how things don't work out.
I have shifted in one easy manoeuvre from lethargy to writer's block. Not this stuff of course, I can write inconsequential LJ entries until the cows come home, and still be tik-takking away through milking time and again when the ladies are on their way back out to ten acre field for a little top up of the cud.
No, it's the proper stuff that's eluding me. It took all afternoon to write a page or so. The best part is, I know what I want to write, I just can't drag out the preferred form of words. I suppose then, that it's not writer's block, but writer's impatience or something (there must be a word or phrase for it). I just can't settle on getting the words down and then going back to the edit; I keep editing and rephrasing as I write, instead, and this means that I get almost nothing written.
I shall, I think, allow that it's just not going to happen tonight. As it's nearly 11.30, I should be having a shave and a shower and getting ready to turn in, anyway. Tonight is after all a school night, and work beckons on the morrow.
Now there's a thing (completely unrelated, this). The line just dropped and then came on again immediately. It was off just long enough to baffle MSN Messenger into closing down - not that I'm actually in the middle of a conversation or anything, you understand, but I like to think that it's me who pulls the plug, not the random vagaries of digital chaos theory. Yes, I realise that qualifies me as rather naïve, thinking I can control something largely programmed by the Hounds of MicrosquashTM, and whose physical architecture is based upon a doodle by an inmate of the IBM Corporation, and then evolved by a couple of generations of web-fingered morlocks in Silicon Valley. Still, one tries, and one hopes against all evidence and good sense, that tappity-tapping on the keyboard and refusing to swear denotes control of some kind.
That said, I have just realised that I am sitting at my keyboard, typing whilst wearing a baseball stylee cap. Maybe the control is in the reverse direction, and subconsciously I am becoming one of those selfsame morlocks... >shudder<. I certainly have the physique for it (that and a craving for pizza). It could be worse, I guess, but as that wave of revelation passes through me, I confess that I am finding it difficult to think how.
Reading this back, I realise that I could have made it two short, snappy and self-contained entries, rather than one long ramble which schmoozes of in a random direction part way through.
I could have done, but where's the fun in that?
Consider this entire entry a late submission for the July Non Sequitur of the Month Award.
I may just win.
I have shifted in one easy manoeuvre from lethargy to writer's block. Not this stuff of course, I can write inconsequential LJ entries until the cows come home, and still be tik-takking away through milking time and again when the ladies are on their way back out to ten acre field for a little top up of the cud.
No, it's the proper stuff that's eluding me. It took all afternoon to write a page or so. The best part is, I know what I want to write, I just can't drag out the preferred form of words. I suppose then, that it's not writer's block, but writer's impatience or something (there must be a word or phrase for it). I just can't settle on getting the words down and then going back to the edit; I keep editing and rephrasing as I write, instead, and this means that I get almost nothing written.
I shall, I think, allow that it's just not going to happen tonight. As it's nearly 11.30, I should be having a shave and a shower and getting ready to turn in, anyway. Tonight is after all a school night, and work beckons on the morrow.
Now there's a thing (completely unrelated, this). The line just dropped and then came on again immediately. It was off just long enough to baffle MSN Messenger into closing down - not that I'm actually in the middle of a conversation or anything, you understand, but I like to think that it's me who pulls the plug, not the random vagaries of digital chaos theory. Yes, I realise that qualifies me as rather naïve, thinking I can control something largely programmed by the Hounds of MicrosquashTM, and whose physical architecture is based upon a doodle by an inmate of the IBM Corporation, and then evolved by a couple of generations of web-fingered morlocks in Silicon Valley. Still, one tries, and one hopes against all evidence and good sense, that tappity-tapping on the keyboard and refusing to swear denotes control of some kind.
That said, I have just realised that I am sitting at my keyboard, typing whilst wearing a baseball stylee cap. Maybe the control is in the reverse direction, and subconsciously I am becoming one of those selfsame morlocks... >shudder<. I certainly have the physique for it (that and a craving for pizza). It could be worse, I guess, but as that wave of revelation passes through me, I confess that I am finding it difficult to think how.
Reading this back, I realise that I could have made it two short, snappy and self-contained entries, rather than one long ramble which schmoozes of in a random direction part way through.
I could have done, but where's the fun in that?
Consider this entire entry a late submission for the July Non Sequitur of the Month Award.
I may just win.
