Blog On The Motorway

So again I have to say that my brain is currently totally tapped out, due to having to think about too many things, all the time.  My normally docile brain has been suddenly expected to leap into action on a number of different fronts, and so as I sit down to write this blog I can think of absolutely no topic to ramble on about. So instead I shall ramble on about nothing.

Yesterday something happened which made me a little nervous about the series of tasks which I have chosen to undertake. I was writing some stuff for BOTM, trying to get a good amount of stuff down in advance of launching, when I found that nothing good was coming to me. I had written 500 words of badly written Dan Brown nonsense, all short sentences with no joy in them whatsoever.

Normally once I have sat down to write I am fine. My version of writer’s block is closer to writer’s avoidance. Once I actually sit down, it all comes tumbling out of me faster than I can type, but yesterday what wrote was so utterly terrible that I deleted the whole lot without thinking.  I hope that my brain has not atrophied from neglect. That would be awful.  No need to panic just yet though.

Yesterday was the finale of Generation Kill, and I’ve written about it often enough that I don’t feel I can let its end go unmentioned. It was predictably brilliant. Subtle and complex, with no easy resolutions, but with excellent insight into our recent misadventures in that region.  Highly recommended. I am definitely going to search the book out.

I spent a small section of my day yesterday waiting in a waiting room, surrounded by sick people. It’s as though the medical establishment thought to themselves that the best way to get people out of waiting rooms would be to make them dens of interminable despair, where you are cocooned in with lots of people who are ill of a variety of different ailments while unadorned walls of grey seem to close in on you. Since the Swine Flu panic started they have become even worse, with no leaflets or magazines available to pass them time, so you spend the whole time glowering at those people who have the temerity to cough or sneeze in your presence.  I coughed at one point, and nearly found myself reassuring everyone that it was simply a smoker’s cough.

So that’s about it really. I shall continue to trundle through the day with zero enthusiasm, and hope that tomorrow I feel like skipping through fields of daisies. Metaphorically speaking of course, since Daisies are thin on the ground in winter, and it’s cold out, and besides I’m not really the skipping kind of person.