So recently I've been trying unsuccessfully to write this article for a magazine. That's no big deal, really. I'm unsuccessful at a lot of things - for example, I'm fairly bad at liking people I meet on the internet.

Be that as it may, while I have no real issues with disliking most of you, the "not being able to write" thing does bother me a little. I don't like this writer's block I seemed to have picked up. Nope, don't care for it. Mmmhmm. That got me thinking (as I tend to do) - what better way to get rid of something than by writing an article about it?

By the way, I see the irony inherent in trying to get rid of writer's block by writing an article about getting rid of writer's block. Wait, that's not irony, that's just confusion.

ARGH! What's wrong with me? Why can't I write? Why is this taking so long? Why don't my parents love me?

Here are some methods of removing writer's block:

Could just be that the very thing stopping you from writing is the evil that's sealed inside your thick skull! Who's to say the devil DIDN'T put in some kind of magic juice that stifled your creativity? The answer? Drill a hole in your skull and dig around for a while. Pull out anything you think you don't need. Chances are good that you don't. While many so-called "doctors" have informed me that trepanation is highly dangerous, I think they're just after my non-existant money.

What inspires you to write? To create? To live, to love, to dance, to sing, to eat children, to paint, to runandjumpandplay? Nothing? Perhaps YOU need a muse! Someone to inspire you, just like in that movie with those actors. You know, the one about some amiable guy turning to Sharon Stone for inspiration with his...uh..edge? To be honest, I've never seen the movie, but I like the title, so it must be good! Ah, daughter of Zeus my ass.

Sure, you won't get much writing done, being deceased and all, but your writer's block will be gone, so you won't have to worry about it. Also, you won't have to put up with your shitty spacebar that doesn't work. Well, it's time I bought a new keyboard anyway, as this one is covered with the filth of many a teenager. Filthy scum! God, how I hate teenagers and foreigners. Ha ha, I'm kidding. I only hate teenagers.

I know for a fact this one doesn't work.

Did any of that help you? It sure as hell didn't help me, I can tell you.

Feh.

Lookout! Non Sequitur Mountain is erupting!

Anyway, here's a section of some of the first reader mail I got:

"As soon as the sound from the gunshots dispersed, a person from the power company arrived and my friend, who had the keys to our ride out of there, believe it or not; JUMP OFF THE DAMN MOUNTAIN AND LIVED! I on the other hand, had to explain the situation, which was a total brainfart, because we were caught red handed:so to speak. Luckily, my friend had some connections and we got out of the situations with just a slap on the wrist. I want to leave this with the love of my friend ZACHERY LAMAR SANDLIN, whom lies in the LORD"S KINGDOM as we speak. All my love to my best friend ever!!!!!!!!"

I'm not sure if this is Chris playing tricks on me or not, but I found that last paragraph amusing enough to post here anyway.

But just cause Chris may or may not be playing mean tricks on me doesn't mean that you can't join in! Send me stuff. I'm lonely, and Mr. Edwards next door finally figured out how to close his blinds so now I can't watch him bathe any more. He was pretty sexy for an 81 year-old.

OK for now.

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