And though I had slain a thousand foes less one,
The thousandth knife found my liver;
The thousandth enemy said to me,
'Now you shall die,
Now none shall know.'
And the fool, looking down, believed this,
Not seeing, above his shoulders, the naked stars,
Each one remembering.
--John M. Ford, The Final Reflection

The Asylum Director

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"The only thing I was fit for was to be a writer, and this rested solely on my suspicion that I would never be fit for real work, and that writing didn't require any." - Russel Baker

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Wasted Potential

I've just come to realize something.

I'm wasting a lot of good material on the stuff I write for work. There's a lot of material there that could really be put to better use as a blog entry, particularly the pieces of mine that focus on stuff like corporate catch-22 situations, workplace-related stress, and "going postal."

No wonder I can't come up with even half-decent posts anymore. Damn.

That settles it. Working is bad for creativity. Well, mine at least.

And...there's no further point to this post, is there?

Let me get back to you when I have a draft of a scene from this side project I'm working on.

1 comment:

Cough Syrup Junkie said...

" Working is bad for creativity" -- true.