My Addiction Affliction

First I go to "Sign in", then I go to "New post" and then I go to "Coma" where I find myself in "the middle distance" engaging in "the thousand mile stare". What makes me think, I think, (when emerging from the coma) that I have anything to say when in fact I know I don't. This writing, bug? infection? addiction? would seem an easy thing (Jones?) to slough off, but I find that is not the case. Just the other day I called a member of my writeaholic support group and said:

"I'm feeling the urge to write."
"What about?" he asked.
"I have no idea" I answered.
"Then why do you want to write?" he countered.
"Because...because..." Well, I had no answer for that.
"I'll be right there" he said. "You're in big trouble."

By the time he got here it was too late. I had already started a blog and was outlining some new song lyrics. Because I had not gotten far with either project, he thought there might still be hope, so he shot me full of words-be-gone and, as the drug began to take effect, he eased me away from the keyboard. "There, there" he said, "look, here's a television! And books! And look over there. My goodness, there's other people!

It worked for awhile. I've gone as long as three days without reaching for a pen, pencil or pad. I'm not sure how long it would take for a complete recovery but I am sure I have never come close. I am clearly too much of a wimp to withstand the withdrawal. The brain spasms, the itchy fingertips, the longing for the feel of paper or the sound of a clicking keyboard are more than I can bear. Even being charged with word abuse and sentenced to oral-expressions-only didn't help. It just made me a scofflaw and a fugitive from blue pencil justice.

And so, having fallen off the wagon, here I am again, writing away with nothing to say; a hopeless purveyor of "shit-lit" looking for a kind word, a good word, the right word or, as is usually the case, any word.

Bollocks. That's a good word. Now where can I use that?