mnvnjnsn's Diary

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Postcard from Vegas

Nearly a month without writing, and all I can concentrate on right now is how I think I have ruined my legs. I don't think they'll work much longer.

I have a problem with shoes. My judgement on shoes is sorely lacking, maybe only slightly less sore than my actual legs right now. Who goes on a business trip to Las Vegas without comfortable walking shoes? Me, that's who. And that's just four days after returning from a business trip to Seattle where lo, no walking shoes were packed. You know, maybe I don't deserve working legs. Clearly I cannot be trusted to take proper care of the ones I've got.

In other news, I think the gland or organ responsible for keeping my desire to write alive and well is not, um, alive and well. I have had all sorts of things happen to me, or around me, or about me, that would make excellent fodder for online journal entries. But for the past month I have preferred to make note of the fodder and promptly forget it. Then, once I am at the right location for an entry (like, say, a computer) and have the time (like, say, at the airport or during a lull in technical supporting), I prefer to stare into space.

Or flip incessantly through TV channels. Or feel sorry for myself. Or complain about how sleepy I am. Or sleep.

And I'm not even that concerned about the atrophy of my writer's spleen. I can't even muster the concern. Even though my other website (the sweet abyss of polar geekery) has begun to see some traffic again, and I know I should at least update the front page, I don't.

To be honest, the only reason I'm writing right now is because I like the keyboard here at my temporary desk in my company's Las Vegas office.

Is there a word for this affliction, I mean besides laziness? Shouldn't the Germans have come up with a word that describes the combination of writer's block, writer's guilt, depression and the sinking suspicion that one's mind in getting duller with every passing episode of Dog the Bounty Hunter?

11:09 a.m. - 2006-05-22


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