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Pen against paper, but no words come out.

  • Pen against paper, but no words come out. No thoughts whatsoever. Just nothing. I didn't understand how my hypergraphia could change so quickly into writers block. It did. And now

    8
  • I took the writer's block out to my car. I had to ask my neighbor to help lift it; he owed me a favor. The thrift store would take it. Last week, they took my artist's ennui.

    6
  • I had a basement full of cliches and my the garage groaned full with metaphors. I prayed that I could become a recovered literary hoarder and return to prose sparse and true.

    7
  • It was time to call in the specialists- a team of highly trained psychiatrists and a crew of cleaners to de-junk my cluttered closet of hyperboles, ryhmes, and alliteration. I was

    6
  • also forced to join "FoldingStory Anonymous", a 12-step program designed to help me repurpose my junk into amazing tales involving sex, sci-fi, and silliness. My counselor told me

    7
  • to stop speaking in 180 characters or less, that we'd never move forward that way. Slowly, I began to put lengthier sentences together when I spoke -some of them even had endings!

    6
  • After three weeks in FoldingStory rehab I had a relapse. I wrote 180 character lines on the bedsheets and folded it down. But my secret habit was exposed like so many dirty linens

    6
  • when the FoldingStory Rehab Staff aired my dirty laundry. I walked up the twelve steps to toilet because it was my turn to clean it. I found a green banana floating in the

    5
  • bowl. I pulled out the banana and ate it. The FoldingStory Rehab Staff will feel the wrath of my vengeance. I noticed another banana in the bowl and carved it into a pistol. I hid

    6
  • under the table &waited for the FSRS to show up. Geez, how freaking long is it going to take them? I got bored, &became hungry. The banana was looking even more yummy. I ate it.

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2 Comments

  1. sundancer Nov 20 2012 @ 00:50

    OMG this was fricken amazing!

  2. SlimWhitman Nov 20 2012 @ 01:40

    At least s/he confessed. It's the first step on the 12 step road to recovery. Although I admit I only ever got to step 7...

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