Ramblings

It's 11.20 pm. The hot stuffy August night has got to my nerves, and I sit here wanting to type something that will make some amount of tangible sense to the reader. Maybe touch a nerve somewhere within, or jerk a tear, or inspire him enough to make his hair stand on end.

That is exactly what I have set out to do, but the problem is I'm totally empty in my head right now. I try a poem. The first two lines have meaning, but don't rhyme. The next two rhyme, but I'm not exactly sure they're related to the previous two. Frustrated, I clear my screen. The discordant poem has been obviated, but my head is none the clearer. I close my eyes and think. What appealed to me recently? Nothing much worth mention. What saddened me? Again, not blog material. What thrilled me? Have to say...nothing of late. Boring week? Apathy? What is wrong with me? Worthless thoughts enter my head, and I am a slave to my own interpretations of why I can't write. With an effort, I clear the cobwebs and shut my eyes again and force myself to think.
I try a piece on the Indian cricket team. It comes out poor, and I realize the futility of the entire exercise. Writing is like magic. When you sit down to write, either you write or you don't write. There's no room in that world for a term like 'try to write'.
I shut down the computer and go for some TV instead. I guess you can't be a writer all the time. There'll be a next time though. There sure will be.