writers bollocks

i got the writer’s bollocks.
it happens when you try to write something but you don’t know where, when, what and how.
this one does not happen when a writer unfortunately and incidentally loses his/her muse.

this happens when writer who is not even a writer loses, perhaps, his/her pen.
pen tries to tell him something (tired of his/her thing).
so the pen speaks:

– so from now on you shall not write.
– why, the pen, why me, why me, why what when which?
– you don’t even know how to speak. the pen repeats with pride and prejudice without even bothering to say the first time.
– but i bought you, so you damned pen, come out and play.
– no. says the pen with great dignity and honor which would only be suitable for a man of 50 years age 150 years ago.
– what to do, what to do. i mumble to myself with a shy and out-of-control manner.
– there is nothing you can do. shouts the damned pen.
you are unwilling underneath, underneath all your outburst that causes you to make a fable out of me…
– but you are not an animal
– not necessarily it murmurs with an exhausted pride
so now i am an ‘it’, eh? asks the pen with a rather clearly canadian accent.
– what is with all this advertisement efforts? i ask
– there is no such effort says the pen the businessman
but still someone has to earn the money this ink does not come for free
– shut up
– i will when you stop using me
– i am not using you! i exclaim with an increasing dramatic voice.
– so you say. but you are nothing without me going all over the paper.
– you like doing that, you are meant for that.
– i can be meant for anything, and also just because i can do one thing it does not mean that i have to be limited to that duty, i have a will and a destiny. no destiny is fulfilled without the attendance of the destined. you are the rider of your destiny. if you are just following the road watching bystanders and the nice souvenir shops who is then driving this train.
– you were on a horse, a car and a train in that sentence.
– it does not matter, it is not the point.
– oh yes you have a point, a ballpoint i guess. i said with a decreasing and teasing voice.
– nice, now its time to make fun of me. he says.
– i said “he” now are you happy?
– yes, you recognizing me, is all that i am. i am nothing without your approval. and approval is a river in egypt.
– not its not, its the nile.
– then its the creek near the sea where it ends and where a small town is settled with small but happy love stories and a leading character with a huge head.
– no that is another creek, kimya dawson’s creek, with a screeching voice and raw but sincere music all around it.
– seems like you easily get carried away. and also isn’t it a little inappropriate?
– ssh, i don’t even know is it you or is it me now. said someone with a disturbed and confused tone.

– ok then i take matters under control as the pen the conqueror.
– whats with the three dotted silence?
– you seem to ask lots of questions
– so what, its not the knowledge that introduces the person, its the questions. what and how you ask gives you away.
– oh so you are afraid of being given away.
– thats you who should be afraid of being given away. i can always lend you anyone who asks
– but you cant you cant do that, no one writes as well as me.
– well, yeah, kind of.