Hiatus

A dark cloud of uninspiration has recently permeated yours truly, like a bad case of flu or a migraine that will not pass. I have been waking up and going to bed without a single care for writing, orating, opining, bullshitting, or even horseshitting, on these pages.

But trying to pinpoint the cause of this dark cloud is probably a futile exercise, and ultimately a pointless one. This cloud must simply be blown away, which perhaps begins by writing about it. To keep it away I must continue to write, and with the vehemence of a Nazi motorcycle driver (who, I am told, were very driven people).

One strategy to produce more copy involves relaxing standards. In practical terms this means more poetry about elves and more pro-segregation essays. I apologize in advance.

Another strategy is to seek out real inspiration, a muse. If this means getting high with unwashed hippies, then so be it. If it means leaving my house, well then forget it.

Then there is the last refuge of the struggling artist: plagiarism. I've always wanted to give that a fair shake.