three for thursday and two for the weekend

A goodie box from Amazon arrived today:

Bukowski because I've neglected him for too long.
The Marxism is for enlightenment.
And Reality Hunger because I read this.

My Netflix weekend will be fulfilled by The Panic in Needle Park and The Hurt Locker.

My presence here has been limited by a lack of inspiration and desire. I haven't written anything creative for months (August 12 of 2009, to be exact); I wonder if the bridge between imagination and the written word will ever be repaired. In the meantime, this blog has mutated into "just another blog." When I began this space, I wanted 80% of the material to satisfy my creativity, that primal need to express myself; the remaining 20% was to function as a soapbox. I suppose I wanted this blog to be an open journal, something intimate, unique. I didn't want to fill it with opinions, because we all have those. What all of us don't possess, however, is the ability to express the unspoken essence of life and memory, and, in my humble opinion, I have, in a few posts, accomplished that. Some of those posts were fiction shorts, and others were real, raw expressions of my reactions to my life. Perhaps I've become too self conscious of who I am in life and what I am at this address. (Should there even be a distinction between the two?) Or maybe I've simply lost the spark of creative expression.

I don't know where my creativity is, and I can't seem to find that perch of observation. Maybe Bukowski can shovel me out.

xx