I stared at the screen. No, I mean I really stared at the screen. As in deep searching. I delved into the white space nothingness looking for images. Finding inspiration there would have been nice. Yeah. Didn’t find it. The curser blinked and flashed. Or maybe it disappeared into another dimension for an instant and returned all the wiser.
If it came back wiser it sure wasn’t sharing its wisdom with me.
Maybe it was more of a flicker. A curser breathing its last, tortured by some evil pixel entity? Write, or the curser dies a slow death on screen! Okay, that wasn’t helping, either. A wreathing curser, or even a dancing one, might be amusing, even entertaining, but the idea was more distraction than inspiration.
In a field of dried-up inspiration all that ever seems to sprout is desperation. All of a sudden our skills and knowledge are forgotten and we’re wearing our lucky socks in the hope the smelly homages to nuclear waste will attract the muse.
Leaning to the side to see around the screen, I checked the couch. My prayers of screaming desperation were answered…
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