P eople say that writer’s block is when you
R un out of ideas. Don’t believe them. It’s when a thousand thoughts
O verflow and jam
E xcessively narrow
S traw they’ve stuck in the
T urbulent milkshake of your mind.
I wrote this acrostic poem in response to yesterday’s Daily Prompt Protest but didn’t post it because it seemed, well, just too damn odd! Looking at it again, though, it does seem to summarise the way I feel at the moment about broadcasting my viewpoint to the world. So I thought I’d try to work out what’s happened. I don’t feel up to stringing a logical argument together, so here are a few random bullet-points in no particular order:
- the political situation in post-Brexit Britain and pre-Trump America is an airless vacuum as if everyone has taken a deep breath at the same moment
- facts are stranger than fiction, as always, but in shorter supply than usual
- any attempt to be satirical is bound to fall short of the weirdness that calls itself reality
- writing about yourself feels like changing the subject
- anything you say about what’s going on in the world could become irrelevant before you finish the sentence
- being controversial may alienate some and frighten off others
- trying to be funny feels like whistling in a graveyard
- whistling in a graveyard makes you look stupid
- every word you utter reveals how you voted, which defeats the object of a secret ballot
- when did words ever change anything anyway?
Is this just me, I wonder, or is any one else struggling with this stuff too?