crickets

I've nothing to say. Life is status quo. Nothing new or unusual is happening. I'm coasting at a comfortable speed. I'm not numb but rather, kind of content. Although, I have had a fire in my belly and rediscovered something that has been sorely lacking for quite some time -- motivation and drive as far as work is concerned. Not that I want to be in my current gig forever. Oh no, I've got books and screenplays to write and major designs on a fabulous life of luxury. But for the foreseeable future, this job o' mine is more than okay. That's where my focus has been the past week or so, at the expense of this here blog.

My stories are dormant for the moment. I haven't really reached inside and felt around for something to share with you since I finished my saga a few months back. Nothing's brewing at the moment and it's frustrating but I've discovered that if I don't press, something of worth will surface in the creative reaches of my scary brain eventually.

I'm bound to get pissed off or fired up soon enough. I'm far too mercurial for this wave of complacency to last. Once it wears off, it won't be long before I'm back to ragging on Peppermint Patty, fretting about my closeted status with my parents, questioning the sensitivity of one Alan Alda and the rest of my patented brand of nonsense again.

Kindly bear with me until the inspiration -- or the hysteria -- comes. Thanks.