Fud. And not in the good way.

I've obviously worn out my New York creativity phase. Where at first, there was none, there then came a ridiculous amount of production which lasted approxinately three and a half years. And now... eh, not so much. Perhaps my mind is asking me to stop being such an agoraphobe.

I'm sure that there's a source behind this latest block. Possibly the promise of my first movie. Perhaps things at work have made a turn for the better. Maybe some girl is driving me insane. Place your bets.

I'm not willing to say for certain if I'm done for good. I like to think that since writing has been such a part of me since I was very young, that it will always be there for me. The muse may ignore me, but she's moody, so you can't really count on her.

In the meantime, I'll scrawl some journal entries, and leave the rest to time.