On The Planet
Is sitting up in his bed. His mind is in a turmoil, whirring in a hundred different directions all at once. He wants to start writing again... what can he post today that will bring some satisfaction that he is at least beginning to write again?
Maybe he'll write about the twat who loves to post crap on Twitter. It's obvious that he doesn't like twats who post crap on Twitter.com but he suddenly gets a flash from the past. It's funny how the mind works and he can remember a time period thirty years before with absolute clarity. A time when things were so real while at the same time, things weren't exactly what they seemed. Hindsight isn't twenty twenty, hindsight is a bitch!
He needs an angle to be able to tell just one story from those days. In years, it was such a long time ago but in his head, those things seem like it was just yesterday. Should he do a first person narrative? Goodness No! It wouldn't work, the reader wouldn't understand. Who would understand those days anyway? Idea dismissed.
His mind returns, this time to another twit on twitter. The writer is most definitely stumped.
His mind cruises into auto roam and random musings. Why do the spoils always end up with the wrongest, dumbest and least qualified? What is it about losers who see themselves as winners who consequently end up dumbing the rest of us down? Why do we the public, the media and good old nice, uncle Joe end up holding these characters in such high esteem? Twits buying from twats who end up dazzling the rest of us with other people's money.
Time to forget about the collective delusion and concentrate on some real shit. There are a diverse range of subjects and topics he could actually write about. He's sure that there are at least five good books he could churn out within a relatively short time frame. Who needs research? Decades of living on the edge trumps any research he could do.
He really believes in the book project, but what he needs right now is stronger than the urge to write. He knows deep down that once he starts, he cannot stop until it's finished. That's a problem because he happens to be the laziest writer on the planet.
So his mind wanders back to the twat on twitter: The least serious leading a society of serious minded people. God help us all.
Reflecting on current trends, he might just find a serious topic to think about, reflect on and possibly write a post on. But what are the chances that that too hasn't been covered by someone else. Not much can be expected from a lazy writer anyway. He's off the hook.
His mind strays back to the twat that tweets non-stop on Twitter.