Constipation of Ideas

Until three weeks ago, my head was clogged with loads of crap. Then I came across a curious story about a poodle. Somehow, wax paper from the neighbour's trash can ended up in its stomach, resulting in bloating. He was sent to an emergency vet when his it swelled to double the normal size.

You bet, I started worrying about swelling head.

I had to flush out the crap from my head just to be safe than sorry. However, I needed an outlet; it would be socially wrong if I disposed of my crap improperly. I needed something... like a blog! Of course, I already had one to abuse. But at that time, I was also contemplating on a major renewal. So, hastily putting up a new template, this is what you got, a new blog and a four-part short story, The Secret Agent, which I hope will win a Pulitzer Prize.

I have no idea how I got the inspirations. Part of them were simply random crap, part of them came up during a discussion with a friend. It was sort of a "diarrhea of ideas".

Look up on that expression in A Contemporary Dicksionary of Newly-Coined Terms, under the entry "diarrhea":

-Idioms
2. diarrhea of ideas, a state where one gets an uncontrollable gush of inspiration.

Rest assured, it had nothing to do with cactus dildo, even though KOJA keeps pestering me about it.

But that was three weeks ago. Right now, my fount of inspiration is running dry. The Secret Agent will probably be my magnum opus, and my future works will forever live in its shadows. Because I'm now suffering from a "constipation of ideas". Nothing is coming out. If this persists, I might have to pay a visit to the pharmacy to get a prescription for laxative.

Or maybe it's simply because I ran out of crap after the recent diarrhea. But I do hope that's not the case - I still have many Pulitzer Prizes to win.