writing about not writing
05/29/2004 09:50 p.m.
Summer is traditionally a bad time for me as a writer. Anything I do write ends up reflecting my physical hibernation that happens as a result of living in a near-tropical climate. I don't go outside, so my writing takes on the bare walls of the indoors and the dry cool of air conditioning. Themes of poems I do write are often swiped from TV shows or music. I always want to write about things I'm learning in school. That's dry these days only because I figure what is a poem about female genital mutilation going to say that's profound? The cruel practice itself stands alone. In any case, I met a boy in my Intro to Africa and it's Diaspora class who writes poetry. His name is Eric (oddly) and he occasionally talks into my chest. But he regularly asks if I've written anything. I feel stupid every time I have to throw out an excuse for my lack of inspiration. It's just that my emotions aren't being tried in any real way. I invent problems to jar my emotions, but nothing can effect them like the real thing. I've put on Tori Amos regularly for the past few days, hoping something would strike me as important enough to write about. I haven't found anything yet. I need a cause that I feel strongly about. I haven't had anything like that in so long. All the big steps that can be taken have been. So I'm in a weird place.

ugh.
I am currently Apathetic
I am listening to Tori Amos' DVD, Welcome to Sunny Florida