Being in a creative rut is kind of like having your foot stuck in a bear trap. It hurts, terribly. No matter what you do, it will take something awful and painful to gain your freedom, the equivalent of gnawing your own foot off or severing it with the trap itself are two of the less graphic options for forward movement. I suppose the best thing to do would be to try and walk with the trap attached and reach a place where you can get help removing it. Though, to be sure, you would be dragging a painful, bloody useless limb miles before you reached any signs of help. So now, for the past few months at least, I've been dragging a bloody limb of creative limbo everywhere I go, and though I loathe the cold infinitely, I know the sheer trauma, pain and aggravation of it, not to mention my tendency to dig in and hibernate when not working, will hopefully create some form of inertia for me to regain the inspiration I'm yearning for. This is not an invitation for anyone to amputate any of my limbs, or remove my organs and leave me in a bathtub full of ice in a strange motel room in Burlington. Simply a very complicated excused for why this page has been left so desolate and empty for such an extended period of time. If I were a bear, I would have eaten the friendly gentleman who was making a documentary about me and/or become a decorative floor covering where a wealthy ivy-leaguer would currently be banging the lady friend he rufeed at a Manhattan nightclub in the ass. Either way, I suppose I'm better off with a bloody stump.
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