by Joe Buonfiglio

I’m a writer never — and I mean never, ever, EVER — at a loss for ideas.  Just the opposite, as a matter of fact.  My office is an unruly mess of stacks and stacks of ideas for posts, stories and projects hastily scribbled down on whatever paper is within reach and strewn across every surface in piles that should win me “Hoarder of the Year.”  Being able to generate ideas is NEVER the issue; it’s having enough time to execute them all before they fade into obscurity beneath some paper-mound that’s problematic.

However, today, as I sit down before my keyboard in order to compose a new post for my blog, “I got nothin’.”  Nothing in my reams of “idea bank” notes is sparking my imagination and nothing new is leaping to the forefront of my brain.

My Muse — having decided that now is the perfect time to be a bit of a twat — has abandoned me.



#5 — I’M A BIT OF A WANKER: For some reason, even I find me annoying today.  I don’t know what the fuck that’s all about.  I’d rather spend the day listening to a tax attorney expound on the changes in the US Tax Code for a straight ten hours while the ghost of Sigmund Freud burns my exposed genitalia with a big, fat, Churchill stogie than spend a moment in my own company.  I got a tattoo at lunchtime and all I could think to ink was “douchebag.”  And if that wasn’t bad enough, I fell asleep and woke up to find it positioned “tramp stamp” style right above my ass-crack.

#4 — GOD, THE STENCH: I’ve taken a bathing-optional stance today.  So when my teenage son gets back from track practice and starts telling me that I smell so bad, he’s not coming into my office until I shower, you know the stability of the universe is in danger.

Seriously, who the hell can write when they smell like week-old summer roadkill garnished with spoiled mussels.  When my dog thought it’d be a good idea to sniff my ass, he paid for it with his life; just went bug-eyed and dropped dead.

#3 — I’VE RAISED APATHY TO AN ART FORM: My Left Brain says, “Come on, motherfucker!  We need to keep the lights on!  Where’s that million-dollar piece of literary genius that’s gonna help me figure out how to pay the rent this month?!”

My Right Brain says, “Meh.”

#2 — TOO MANY FUCKING DISTRACTIONS: My OCD must have temporarily transformed into ADD, because I’m as if a kitten chasing around the red beam from a laser-pointer.  I’m tweeting on Twitter, posting on Facebook, wondering how birds and reptiles can be so damn sure that’s their kid inside that egg, Googling “STDs that can be cured with immersion in chocolate pudding,” posting selfies of just my toenail fungus, worrying that you can actually go blind from too much Internet porn, and contemplating having my name legally changed to Lord Miso Soup Stickypants.  I’m doing everything — EVERYTHING — except writing.

But that changes RIGHT NOW!  Time to crack the whip on myself and get back to—  Ooooooh, that’s an online quiz I’ve never taken.

And finally…

#1 —

No, that’s not a mistake, smartass.  That, my friend, is burnout.  As I said, “I got nothin’!”

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “But Joe, didn’t you just blog an entire post about not being able to think of anything to post this week?”  The only retort I could possibly offer to such a highly astute, yet somewhat naive observ—  Hey, look.  I can balance these Fritos on my belly until they’re stacked like a Jenga tower.


© 2015 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

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