A message from moi

I've got a writer's block. I mean, I guess that's what I'll call it. I can still type. I can still talk. But poems? Those have all basically died and gone to hell. It's driving me crazy. Starting september, I had this amazing rush of excitement from compulsive song writing. Now, I think the barrel of creativity is completely ending. I can't think of anything, in short. The only way I'm about able to type this is cos I'm careful to not delete anything. Or reread it. If I do, I'll probably get mildy frustrated, and then save this as a draft. I wonder how it will turn out. If this is freaking crazy weird, I'm sorry. Reginald Vincent (the man in my head) has gone on vacation, and I doubt he'll have any great works of art coming out soon. Maybe the snow slows things down, dampens spark, maybe? It would be a sad conclusion, but at the moment I don't feel like blaming anything else. Beh. Laura and leah, have all begun to write amazingly. Laura is just a better writer than me in general, which I accept. Leah, has started to do these freeverse blips. And, just to get that out there, I SUCK at freeverse. Can't do it. Might have used to, at some point, but whatever gene or talent thing that was is now gone. Leah's writing is beautifully simplistic, and shockingly honest. I can't believe how authentic it feels. Laura is just too good. Clever. Complete wit. I just talk. I dunno. Eh. Gah. Beh. Bye.