Fear of Paunchiness

Tuesday, June 15, 2004 -
Ap�sl�min ida corbalanyrtne 'ls�o rohl'daathi�m v� nen�a iroyss�rd.

Okay. . . I think it's waaaayyy past time for an update when I start dreaming about Diaryland. This morning I dreamt that Blaine Edwards and Antoine Merriwether had left a note in my guest book. They had reviewed my diary and they had given me a Big Fat F, but this didn't seem to be a bad thing. I clicked over to their Diaryland site and started reading my review, which was clearly a rave (apparently F is for Fantabulosa) but I woke up before I found out if I had received the coveted Two Snaps Up.

(Although, if you ask me, I deserve a brisk spanking for my lack of updates, and for neglecting the Revolving Joseph Cornell.)

I've been working so hard lately, I've been so staunch and upright and trying to do the right thing, that I had to have at least one responsibility for shirking and sadly, Dear Diary, you were it. And a crippling bout of writer's block didn't help much. I've been fighting with that malaise for quite a few months now, but it has become particularly acute in the last few weeks, which is an especial drag since Blaine and I are working on the RFA's new novel. When I write, I feel like my brain is constipated�the brain is packed full of ideas and stories, but forcing them out as words on a page or screen has become. . . well, I'd like to say almost impossible, but that wouldn't mean much, since it is possible. I've managed to write a few satisfactory chapters, but the process is stodgy and wearisome, and I've come to loathe my computer.

<~>
Ap�sl�min ida corbalan� 'lse nesgla ugar�-cham sa cru ogrulho bat�oltha al�mv�sde.

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