Do I have stage fright?
Or maybe I have writer's block. Creative constipation, perhaps?
I am forcing myself to blog tonight. My apologies for ill-content.
I am determined to write...about something.
Maybe my brainfreeze comes from realizing some stories can never be told.
Well, at least from atop a public soap box.
Maybe this blogstipation is really my mind serving shivah.
Yes, that's it. I am in mourning - until Saturday.
(Who wants to mourn on the weekend?)
I must embrace my grief.
I must bid "Adieu" to the thoughts
of revealing the incriminating tales of current kinship I despise
( they're excrement upchuck, anyway - the kinship, not the tales - the tales rock)
- and secret crushes I secretly lust secretively afar.
Adieu sweet tales. Until we meet again or until I can figure out a way to incorporate your fabulously ridiculous episode into a post incognito style without anyone figuring out who you are or when you happened or who was involved without disclosing details writing in a subtle nuances creating fictional attributes to disguise your upchucked being and uber-secret love in order to expose your ridiculously fabulous ways.
Adieu.
Maybe a public blog isn't a good place to reveal your secret crush. Maybe there really isn't a good place to reveal a secret crush. Maybe thats why its a secret and maybe its not meant to be revealed. In fact is it even a secret if its revealed. I guess than it just becomes a crush and who wants that. (Wow how many times can i use the word maybe)
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Ahhh...hello again, my little Canadian friend.
You make a valid point as usual, mon petit ami.
A secret is no longer a secret, once known.
Alas, a secret crush would no longer be a secret crush.
And, as you said, what the hell fun is that?!
What if I refer to my secret crush, as my secret crush
and do not reveal the secret part of the secret crush?
Does that count?
Ahhh....Bonne nuit, l'ami doux.
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