Nothing of Note
I am always amazed about the gravitational pull of a week. Friday comes around and words putter out. Not that ideas refuse to come. They just take more effort to express in words than normal.
Before this would frustrate me, but now I take it as an extension of the general course of things. It's only natural — another expression of entropy, another expression of the second law of thermodynamics.
Perhaps it's noteworthy to note this inhibition to note anything. Like admiring nature. Writer's block could actually be a beautiful piece of granite that simply exists in the world for us to appreciate, to take for what it is.
But, you know, John Cage put it best:
I have nothing to say and I am saying it and that is poetry.