So my last blog post was hot, wasn’t it? I love it when the words flow from me, and they’re tight and passionate and so perfect for a freaking contest… but I don’t use it for such. My contest entry for the Zanctuary writing contest is dragging. It’s actually not flowing which makes it rough going aka work. I guess that should tell me something, huh?
Then yesterday’s blog post just flowed from my fingers when I was half asleep. The words were all perfect. I couldn’t really find any fault in the way I described it. It happened just like that in my dream, but I don’t know how I articulated it so well when I was half asleep and not yet caffeinated.
What kind of muse inspires something as perfect as yesterday’s bit when I’m not even awake, but can’t make Defending Your Love Life work? And where is this muse? Why does he hide on me all the time? He’s a total hit and run lover. Yesterday, he showed up, out of the blue, and fucked me in a good way. When I was working on Defending Your Love Life, the muse was there… but he was fucking me in the bad way. I’ve decided that there is nothing I can do but admit that, while I have a writing/creative muse… he’s also a Fuck Me Muse.
My muse takes great delight in fucking with me and fucking me. He hides out, snacking on my writing bites, getting fat and happy and giving me nothing but silence. Then he goes all bulimic, gets all buff and hard bodied and shows up to inspire something hot and riveting. He is a fickle fucker. I shouldn’t be able to sit down the way this muse fucks me up the ass repeatedly.
This weekend I’ve gotta figure out what I’m doing for this contest. I need another bit like yesterday’s. Longer and hotter though. Something I’ve never posted before. I mean, I was second last year. I gotta defend that and try for number one, don’t I?
I don’t have a lot of faith that my muse will show up, but you never know. I guess I should get the lube out just in case though, eh?
