Tuesday, December 8, 2009

feeling not great.

The script is going shithouse. I deleted another version of it and I am back to un-inspired territory. No wonder writers jump off cliffs - it's soul destroying and completely masochistic. Can I write? Do I have talent? Who the frick am I kidding? Why bother? Will anyone understand me?

Pass the gin and pack of smokes I'm a frustrated art-eest.

Today I killed the budgie. I say I killed it but I didn't actually kill it, intentionally. You know. I did all the right things this morning by putting in a bird bath, fresh water , placing the cage under the shade of the beautiful mop top tree. Gave it some nectarines to eat. But I had forgotten to refill the bird seed container two days ago, and yesterday I kicked myself when I realised I hadn't bought more seed for the birds. Today I remembered and I came home with a huge stick of bird seed, but it was too late. The little blue budgie was dead. His best friend is all alone tonight for the first time, and I just feel terrible. I feel dreadful.

So I'm feeling a bit shit. I can't write and I can't come up with any great ideas. A whole year of work is down the toilet, all those hours and hours. Poof! Gone!

I am sorry to the budgie. I am sorry I didn't give you seed yesterday but I really did think you'd be ok with a nectarine. Sorry.

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