Where have I been?
With scout, who is in Bombay briefly. We're sorta having a chick blog conflab, well, nothing as organised as that I admit, but still, we're chick bloggers, we're conflabbing, let's just call it a really, really mini-blog meet. Yesterday, we got reasonably buzzed, today we will attempt to move beyond reason. Other factors that contribute towards me feeling good today (besides no hangover, and friendly company ie) is the fact that a comely member of the opposite sex (hi!) read my blog, and recognised it, even, when I mentioned what is was. What price anonymity, when you can flirt a little, eh?
I was accused at Melody's happy to you party, of writing entirely for an audience and not "doing any writing for me anymore" and while at the time, I sputtered a little bit and then said snottily and wimpishly, "That's your opinion" before I tossed my head and looked away, I realised the next day (by which time it was too late) that really what I should have said was duh.
Of course I write for an audience. I blog. If I didn't want an audience, I would journal. (Which I do, but trust me, a week of that writing and you'd be begging me to go back to the sex already). And any blogger who tells you they write for themselves is totally lying. Unfortunately, the problem with this is that when you're blocked, like I am at the moment, words are just not forming at my fingertips like they normally do, you feel this sort of panic to update, and immense and utter frustration at not being able to get the words out.
So, even though I've been busy and I've had a lovely weekend, and I have a new favourite club, I can't seem to summon up the appropriate enthusiasm all these things rightly deserve. Just basic writer's block, nothing to get anxious about, but I'm going to update this later, when the need to spill is back. Later this week, I promise.