Tuesday, October 23, 2012

I Wish I Had A Typewriter


The canvas is bleach white and from time to time, a few stray words and letters blemish it's perfection. It's one of those days when you just stare blankly at the screen and pray that some ancient Greek Muse will slap you with inspiration and enable you to write about something, anything. 

Tap. Tap. Blah. Tap. Tap. Tap. Blah. Blah. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Blah. Blah. Blah. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Blah.

This is actually one reason why I falter at the idea of single-blessedness. My life is a bore and without a love life to spark fireworks and bitter tears, there's really nothing to write about. I'm an ordinary boy living an ordinary life and I doubt being ordinary will flicker anyone's interest.

Maybe I'm just being narrow-minded. I suppose everybody has stories to tell and it is of course a writer's challenge to pique a reader's interest or bring incredible insight to day to day encounters. Maybe I'm simply not good enough at telling stories-who knows. Or maybe I'm too engrossed at the monotony of my everyday life that I simply do not see the insights.

One thing is clear though. My idea of good stories are odes to love found, love lost and love remembered. There's nothing really wrong with that but I guess it's time to leaf through new pages and explore new ventures.

And yes. I wish I had a typewriter.

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