THBBM - Sakana Otoko

Sakana Otoko
I remember searching for the perfect words.. I was hoping you would change your mind.
2-5

So I'm sitting here, letting my mind wander a bit. I've spent the majority of this day working on my writing, kicking the site back into shape.. It's surprisingly chilly tonight in North Florida - February refusing to release it's grip.
Searching for inspiration.
: Writer's manuals, literary texts - they're always focusing on ways to get ideas, ways to look at the world differently; flints to spark your flames with... Pretend you're an ice cream cone, walk a mile in someone else's shoes, ask yourself what things would be like if we still believed the world was flat..
: It's all about looking at things differently, shaking your perceptions up a little.
Nothing wrong with that, I suppose.
: I'm sitting here at the computer, music playing quietly, a neglected cup of hot chocolate in front of me. The television is on in the other room, flickering shadows and colors against the walls. I absently left it on when I sat down to write..
: Last night was much the same; doodling on the page, checking out infomercials, hopping around the web looking for connections, diversions.. Eventually I found myself reading a number of older journal entries, and even later I dug into an old paper journal of mine from untold eons ago. It was interesting to see the cycles repeat, and the narrator evolve over time, but at the same time, many of the stories from back then seemed to be the same stories I tell now, and that I am starting to think, is part of the problem..
It was almost 3:30 in the morning when I called it quits.
: It's been two months since I posted any sort of writing anywhere, two long and frustrating months. During which time, I've found myself in a number of conversations with friends, family, and readers all wondering why I haven't written..
: Sometimes I find it hard to explain... and occasionally it gets to the point where somehow I felt like I am defending my choice to not write rather than comiserating at it and hunting for a solution -- which is not what I really want to do at all. It's like if someone were to ask me, "Why do you wait until after you get dressed to brush your teeth?"
: I mean, I've never actually weighed the options of when the best time to brush my teeth is, but suddenly in explaining myself I find myself on one side of the fence or the other, trying to justify something that in truth I have no explanation for.
I don't want to do that.
: What I've been waiting for these past few months, I really couldn't tell you. My intentions are good (as far as I can tell), but it's as if I feel content just goofing off, letting it slide.
: Perhaps I'm too easily distracted.
: I glance to the television, wondering what the commotion is that's causing all the noise to come from the speakers. Late night re-runs of Jerry Springer. Tonights topic (every night's topic):
: FREAKY FETISHES
: On the screen, there is a man parading on the stage in a bathrobe. Jerry asks what his freaky fetish is. The guest removes his robe.
: He's naked except for a pair of short pants, and a number of strips of duct tape that are wrapped around his body.
"You're into duct tape?" Jerry asks.

The guy smiles and says, "No, Look!" and proceeds to peel some of the tape back from his skin, revealing several small fish.
: There's this look Jerry Springer gets on his face no matter how many fucked up people he encounters, a look that says 'Dear god, why am I here?'
: You can see this look is all over Springer's face as he puts the microphone close to his lips and says,
"Your fetish is having fish duct taped to your body?"
: How long I found myself watching this, I really don't know -- but suddenly the chime on my watch lets me know it's 1:30 am. I flick the television off.

I am too easily distracted.

Index