"All my love's in vain, can...cannot find a vein."
Harrumph! A writer without words... is like a fish out of his bowl. See? Even my analogies are suffering. A writer without words... is like... well it's, it's hell. You get my drift. But a wise man once told me that there's no such thing as writer's block, and because of that lesson I write here now, about, well, not being able to write.
I struggle to release a lot of things these days and I have a feeling it's because I need a clean slate: I'm always talking about changing, and constantly going through the process of, or attempting to do so. I never quite get there - I seem ever held back by old ways of thinking/feeling/behaving.
I think back to the old Marylin (that crazy gal), who, though had a more productive life, exchanged it all for 'this.' Whatever she did must have back-fired big-time (the poor girl). And though a poor girl she was, she wouldn't want me wallowing around in the grief process over failures and time-wasted. She'd want me to say goodbye to 'Old Marylin' and let 'New Marylin' flourish.
So that's when I thought, what's a better way to say goodbye in style than a old-fashioned eulogy? I mean, can it get more therapeutic than that?
Call me a quirky, self-therapeutic nut-bag (I mean, my last idea would have cost hundreds of dollars and resulted in some very tasteful, though indecent photographs), but this idea seems like a good one to me.
In fact, I'd advise anyone out there reading this who is attempting to undergo some sort of change in their lives to try this exercise! I don't really know anyone who isn't trying to change something. How about starting the process by saying farewell to the part(s) of yourself that now either hinder you or are obsolete (if that makes any sense at all).
Okay, well that's what I'll do then. Meanwhile, I'll figure out something to write about.