this is me not feeling it.

ugh.  i am so not feeling it.

no particular reason, but there’s no fire in my muse.  she’s just sort of lolling about, going “Meh.”  i havent seen The Zone for weeks.  except for that poem, yesterday.  i love The Zone, but it’s the kind of place you don’t know you’ve been untill after you emerge, blinking, into the light.  it’s beset by typos and bad sentence structure, but the sheer flow of words feels soooo good.  editing can come later,  as i said – you don’t notice, whilst you’re in it.  it sounds a bit poncy, but it’s like channelling the story…being the story…  well, i suppose not that poncy, but still, i feel a little uncomfortable using phrases like this.  which is why i’m absolutely no good at reviewing/critiquing/whatever.  i feel uncomfortable using the language i percieve to be associated with it.  and because i percieve that association, i’m incapable of thinking in, and therefore speaking in, any other terms.

whatever

*clunking gear change*

we went to see The Taming Of The Shrew, last night.  our very first ever live Shakespeare.  ’twas ace! 😀 the performances were, for the most part, smooth and layered, and Petruchio (Sean O’Callaghan) was, by turns, mesmerising and shiveringly terrifying.  not to mention despicable. really enjoyed it, but it left me somewhat conflicted.  i find myself necessarily thinking of it in tems of metaphor and satire since, if i take it as a demonstration model for how the relationships between men and women should be, even if it is over 400 years old, i die a little, inside.  it’s bad.  so bad.  the worst thing?  there are so many relationships out there that are built just like this.   fuck patriarchy and male entitlement.  the way he broke Katerina down made me want to weep with grief and fury.  basically he starved her of both food and sleep, and fucked with her head, until she was desperate and broken enough to comply with whatever he said.

*further clunking gear change, following procrastinatory laundry and desultory dicking about in the interwebz*

gah!  see, this is what i’m talking about.  i can’t even find the zone for a blog post, FFS!  something for which i don’t (generally) have to make stuff up!!! i was dissembling, before, as there is a particular reason (though i am wary of it, as i am so good at giving myself excuses not to write) here’s the problem:

normally, when i write, i am to be found in the front room, curled up on one of the sofas, tapping away.  the room is too small for a desk, but it does…ok.  sort of.  mostly.  however, it depends largely upon what the television is doing as to whether i can get any actual fictionalising done.  often, there will be computer golf going on, along with some music on the stereo, which is…  not too bad.  but that was before ss#2 came back to live with us.  now, more often than not, there is some sort of fucking godawful warfare simulation dross being played.  lots of gunshots and explosions, sounds of dying gurgles and stupid macho dialogue.  and the swearing.  oh, gods save me from the frustrated swearing that happens in my front room when these goddamn stupid-ass games are being played.  i would swear, if they weren’t playing them ALL THE FUCKING TIME that hubby and ss#2 hated these games with a passion, and were being forced to play them at gunpoint. (ETA: i think hubby is actually fairly sick of them now, too, but it’s a case of share and share alike, i guess…)

anyway.  my point is that it is very, very hard to find any kind of mental quietitude in my house these days, without escaping to another, less comfortable and usually colder, room.  the only reason the above rant has happened with any kind of continuity is that i have finally cracked and am now hiding in our bedroom, with the cat for company.  and he is asleep.  it was that or scream in ss#2’s face.  and possibly bludgeon him to death with a PS3 controller.

think i’ll take advantage of the respite and have a ook at that oogly piece i’ve been failing to write.  it may go nowhere, but at least i can give it a fair crack now.

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