Oh My Muse, You Are A Whore And A Cheating Cunt

I hate the way my inspiration works inside my head. That, combined with my mental disability makes falling into the cesspit called "Writer's block" a living ball of shit. I don't know what a living ball of shit is, but it sounds really fucked up and it gives me the mental image of fighting against a golem made out of stinking piss and offal. You see, I try really hard to stick to the shit I do, but I get so easily bored that it doesn't take long before I start making fires elsewhere, and whatever else I happened to piss on in the past just gets forgotten in the mayhem. This doesn't apply only to blogging, but also to jobs, hobbies and all the other shit I get close enough to touch with my dick.

Last time I gave you all a mental image of how insanely hard it is to keep my concentration bound, but trust me, hunting muses is equally hard. Inspiration isn't something one just gets for free... It has to be hunted down and strangled with force, like anything else you set your eyes upon.

First of all, you need a male virgin. That special scent of desperation isn't something one just finds lying around the house, and that immature yet extremely inventive imagination is something that attracts muses like bees to honey. Next, get yourself a 12-gauge shotgun. Muses are crafty bitches, and hard to catch with a net, so better to shoot them in the legs so they can't run away. After you got them crying on the floor in front of that poor virgin with their legs blown to shit, tie their hands with a silver thread and put them in a chair carved with Justin Bieber lyrics. That shit is like poison to them. Once you got all this shit down, pop a beer and drink it like a boss, because you so deserved that, you awesome person you.

Congratulations, you've got yourself a muse.

It's been awhile since I wrote anything, and that's because the last muse died on me. I forgot to feed her. Having to find a male virgin after that without breaking laws took awhile, but now I'm back. The muse is now safely trapped, and I can get back to vomiting words.

What's new? I don't know yet, but I'm about to find out. Next on the journal is to surf the retardweb for something real to write about that doesn't include me pissing on your patience as you find out the post you're reading wasn't really what you hoped for. Besides there are more important stuff to write about, like; shitty movies; shitty bands; shitty games; shitty people and most of all, this shitty life we're stuck in. Last time I did some investagional thingie, I ventured into the world of chatroulette, (although somewhat superficial) this time I'm thinking about diving into the BD/S&M forums where people play out their fetishes. Either that or I'll try to find weird people and shit on their filthy habits. Whatever, I'll find something.

-Ravn