I've felt a bit funny today.
My writing has been awful. It's forced, boring, pointless clumps of words thrown together to make sentences about things. The sort of sentences people read and then think, "Wow, 11 year old girls are pretty bad at writing aren't they?" Then they work out that it was actually written by a 25 year old man and they promptly set about stabbing their eyes out with a biro or holding their breath till they pass out.
Not wanting to 'cause any blindness or... death, I stopped writing.
I drank a coffee and a can of coke and jumped around.
I pretended to karate kick the work experience kid.
I grabbed a pen and drew on my wrist.
I made a video of myself on a stairmaster-like exercise machine drinking coke and dancing to an upbeat Black Lips song.
This was real creativity. Screw the writing. I was an artist.
Then I showed my friend the video, cause I knew appreciated the complexities of my brilliant art.
"That was fucking awful," he said. "You owe me 38 seconds of my life back."
The sugar and caffeine high wore off then. I re-opened the word document and stared at the screen until all the words went blurry.
"I wish that window screensaver with the coloured pipes was still around," I thought.