Last week I traveled to a pind in Punjab and felt my soul come alive. But since life is unfair, I had to alas! return to my life of aimless ambition. I want to write but I have become lazy as fuck and my mediocre writing has begun to anger me. But I pledge to return. With a bang. In black. Like a warrior risen from the dead.
You know that feeling when there's words in your head but they're not really bursting out like an impetus but they're there and you have to make an effort to form them into coherent somewhat poetic sentences but you just CAN'T and you don't want to and it's a miserable suffocating disabling kind of itch that you just can't seem to scratch even though itis absolutely within your reach. 
I am restless but hopelessly marooned and like all those who are lackadaisical, I have chosen to dawdle in this pool that I dislike but do not hate enough to work against.
The previous sentence was constructed merely for the purpose of the presentation of a new word I learnt today. If I have used it wrongly and you want to correct me, don't. You'll ruin it. 

Hear hear,


if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.