Ever thought you couldn't get any lower with out falling and getting seriously hurt? That' s what I would think if I was playing limbo sober. As it turns out, I am neiter limbo-ing nor am I sober.
No, I am in relationship limbo, the worst kind of limbo next to existance limbo and the waiting-for-some-big-company-to-attend-to-your-call limbo. At least this limbo isn't punctuated with bad quality recordings of Kenny Rogers songs.
So, to say the least, creativity is at an all time low. I just managed to pump out a couple of short stories for the Sunday Star Times short story competition, but only because I had written them about a fourtnight ago and they only needed some very minor tweaking. Honestly, I feel about as creative and inspired as an exceptionally unemotional lump of coal.
in short, I feel sick.
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2 comments:
Look, go away. I do not care who beggetted who. Even if they were monkeys. Or midgets. Or midget monkeys.
Oh, the fun of minitures.
But it's genealogy Flan! GENEALOGY!!!
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