a lonely job

it's a lonely, disparate job, trying to keep a gleeblog updated on a point in interstellar internet space.

weeks or days pass by and no words come to the fore to keep either the writer or the reader entertained or informed.

thoughts flag listlessly like a flaccid penis on downers.

ideas remain clogged in the synapses of the brain like phlegm in the throat of a flu-stricken patient.

the web site sits blank, unblinking, like dubya at his desk in the oval office.

lethargy sits mockingly on the writer's shoulders, sweating whispered nothings in his ear, stealing time from the voluptuous muse, who sits jealously in the locked recesses of the condor's nest that is the dormant imagination, waiting her turn to whisper sweet somethings into the writer's ear.

coherence hovers in the ice cream swirl of cottony colourfulness like a rising moon not ready to rise.

if only these things would write themselves sometimes--or at least could be written through the osmosis of passing out on the monitor and just remaining there while the subconscious dutifully transcribed its stream-of onto the electronic vellum.