Monday, March 4, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Amnesia
AMNESIA
I have a Muse.
Her name is Amnesia.
She’s never around,
When I really need her.
She’s off, gallivanting,
With some other guy,
Leaving me on my own.
Don’t ask me why.
Amnesia is fickle.
She comes and she goes.
She gives me the fits,
As I struggle with prose.
I’d get a new Muse,
In a minute.
It’s true!
But what if she’s worse?
What’s a writer to do?
So I’ll grin and I’ll bear it.
I won’t open my trap.
I’ll sit and I’ll wait,
And put up with her crap.
‘Cause sometimes it’s better,
The Devil you know,
Than to find a new Muse,
And risk greater woe.
Amnesia is fickle.
That much is true.
But when she is here,
See what we can do?
^_^
I have a Muse.
Her name is Amnesia.
She’s never around,
When I really need her.
She’s off, gallivanting,
With some other guy,
Leaving me on my own.
Don’t ask me why.
Amnesia is fickle.
She comes and she goes.
She gives me the fits,
As I struggle with prose.
I’d get a new Muse,
In a minute.
It’s true!
But what if she’s worse?
What’s a writer to do?
So I’ll grin and I’ll bear it.
I won’t open my trap.
I’ll sit and I’ll wait,
And put up with her crap.
‘Cause sometimes it’s better,
The Devil you know,
Than to find a new Muse,
And risk greater woe.
Amnesia is fickle.
That much is true.
But when she is here,
See what we can do?
^_^
Monday, February 25, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Grimness
Hello, gentle readers.
It’s a rainy day here and I am doing laundry.
Ah, the pleasures of domesticity.
They are, ladies and gentlemen, a bit overrated.
Weren’t we supposed to have self-cleaning houses by now? Or robot servants? Whatever happened to the flying car?
Sometimes, it seems like the promise of the future has not been achieved. Which, if I’m being completely honest, depresses the hell out of me.
Occasionally, I have stories posted at a website called 365tomorrows.com. The site is devoted to showcasing short science fiction. Lately, though, I’ve noticed a trend in the stories that they’ve been featuring. They’re dark and grim, focusing on death and war.
Now, I like a good post-apocalyptic yarn as much as the next guy, but I don’t want a steady diet of it. Sadly, that seems to be all we’re getting these days.
Science fiction and fantasy have just become so grim.
Where’s the wonder? The joy? What is with this tendency to wallow in angst like an overemotional thirteen-year-old?
Whatever happened to fun?
It’s a rainy day here and I am doing laundry.
Ah, the pleasures of domesticity.
They are, ladies and gentlemen, a bit overrated.
Weren’t we supposed to have self-cleaning houses by now? Or robot servants? Whatever happened to the flying car?
Sometimes, it seems like the promise of the future has not been achieved. Which, if I’m being completely honest, depresses the hell out of me.
Occasionally, I have stories posted at a website called 365tomorrows.com. The site is devoted to showcasing short science fiction. Lately, though, I’ve noticed a trend in the stories that they’ve been featuring. They’re dark and grim, focusing on death and war.
Now, I like a good post-apocalyptic yarn as much as the next guy, but I don’t want a steady diet of it. Sadly, that seems to be all we’re getting these days.
Science fiction and fantasy have just become so grim.
Where’s the wonder? The joy? What is with this tendency to wallow in angst like an overemotional thirteen-year-old?
Whatever happened to fun?
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