I wonder how much of my blog posting has been fueled by coffee. I've been off the stuff for about a month now, and I don't want to write anything, at all. Oh well. The writing here has always waxed and waned . . .
Part of it is that I still don't feel well. Still with the low grade flu symptoms that come and go, still with back pain that comes and goes. Everything is much better than a month ago, but still, low energy. Ongoingly uninspired.
Another part is that I always felt the audience, could feel you guys out there. And I wrote to you. It was like that first rush of getting to know someone where you want to tell them everything, and since I have virtually no social in my living anymore, it's been my place to come to be seen, heard.
Or wanting to explain myself, of feeling misunderstood, or in situations that felt unfair, and I could write it all out, and feel a sense of peace around whatever the issue was.
And of course the Chronicling of The Supposed Waking Up.
And the sharing of the Holistic Stuff, the products and food and stuffs I've found that work.
And of course all of the Weaselville stuff which amused me highly though didn't seem to amuse too many of you, you apparent dog lovers you.
But now it's all just kind of Whatever. I go to write and it's just dry, crumbly. It feels pointless. Why write? who cares? Why keep posting chapters of the novel? Why keep posting these tiny tales of human?
This blog is 7 and a 1/2 years old. 1130 posts. Over 200,000 hits. 5136 comments. Whatever.
Or maybe I just need to start drinking coffee again. Have any great works of art have ever been fueled by green tea?