writer’s block

Is a mother fucker.
It feels, sometimes, that my computer is taunting me, haunting me, mocking me, waiting for me to do something, anything on it that’s worth something.
I work retail. Retail bleeds you, it sucks you dry, of everything that is life and inside of you. The thing of it is, when you live in a city like New York, you sort of need a job. That’s a lie, you don’t sort of need a job-you really fucking need a job. Living here is torture, and let me tell you, growing up on MTV, music, and TV you get a really warped idea of what life in New York really is.
I’ll be the first to admit that watching SATC, Friends, and the L-Word you get this idea that you too can live the wonderful, dream-like existence that you see portrayed to you week after week on the screen. Beautiful, creative, intelligent women play out on your screen. Perfect hair, flawless skin, impeccable wardrobe.
Fuck all.

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