I haven't had writer's block, I've just had "lifer's suck." Which means, I haven't lost my desire to write, I just haven't had shit to write about. Regular life is boring. Nobody wants to read about that, and I don't want to write about it, either. Could you imagine taking some No-Doz just to get through my stories that started out with the following:
"So I went to work on time today and did my job properly."
"I hung out with the same girl I always hang out with and we had a nice time."
"My roommates are pleasant people and I quite enjoy living with them."
Those three sentences alone are boring as shit. Imagine having to read the whole damn story! I don't know what to do. I love writing, but I'm only good at writing what I know: and what I know is that my life has been enjoyably flat lately.
I haven't gotten in any good trouble lately. I haven't even tried to. It's nice, but it sucks.
Girls will do that to you, man. I don't think they always mean to, they just do. They get you complacent and happy. And next thing you know you're no longer out running around in the middle of the night acting stupid and searching for things you don't need and falling into other adventures along the way that even Mark Twain couldn't have made up himself.
I need someone bizarre eccentric to swoop in like Willy Wonka and give me 60,000 dollars and orders to do whatever I wanted with it for the next six months (under the condition that I spend the 6 months after that writing a completely honest kick ass book about what I did during that time) I'd make us both rich. I could really stir some shit if I was under such orders. I'm great at being bad. I'm good at a few things. But I'm awesome about being terrible.