I never thought we would reach the point where this happened, yet here we are. I am sitting in my office typing, slaving away at the keyboard as I have been all day and week, and nothing is coming to me. Nothing, nada, zilch, negative, zero, sub-zero, and diddly squat.
The thing is, “Tyler’s Tirades” is no good if I have nothing to tirade about, and this week there was really nothing that grinded my gears or put my Fruit of the Looms in a bunch.
I suppose I should be happy; I had a good week. My insomnia was only a minor inconvenience, as opposed to a complete calamity for my day to day life. I got to call the playoff basketball game Colorado Mesa University hosted and won on Tuesday for the radio station, and I paid off my credit card bill. There really isn’t much for me to be upset about this week, which by itself has me upset because now I don’t have any material to work with.
Sure, I’m not happy the president is attacking the media and his attorney general may have had contact with the Russians, but you can find opinions on that in the New York Times. I’m sorry, the “failing” New York Times.
No one ever solved the issue of my neighbors being too loud or my prescription drug prices being too high, so I guess writing about it didn’t work. If it didn’t work once, why would I do it again?
I can’t review the latest episode of whatever popular show is on now because I don’t have a television.
I haven’t seen “Logan” yet, so I can’t do a review on it. “The Lego Batman Movie” was pretty fun, but that’s been out for a while now and I actually enjoyed it, unlike the most recent versions of Batman. Don’t worry Ben Affleck, you were smart not to direct those movies, you saw the iceberg and thought, “I should not be on the Titanic.”
Albertsons is closing, which puts a damper on my once every millenia grocery shopping trips, but I could just go down the street to City Market so that’s not really “Tirade” worthy.
I got nothing for you. That god-forsaken writer’s block finally caught me, and I must say it was a long time coming. Unlike most eccentric writers, I don’t have one of those fancy desk books that say, “tips for helping cure writer’s block” because most of those prompts are pretty stupid.
I had a technique last semester where I would just write the bulk of my columns all at once and do minor edits the week leading up to publishing and sending them on their merry way. That quickly went by the wayside when it dawned on me that not only am I not that great at speed writing, I also have this thing called a life, a job and people I want to hang out with.
Stephen King can write all the books he wants in the span of an hour, but me? I can barely get my thoughts on paper.
So apologies for those expecting me to make some rage-induced yet profound statement on mundane life, but I really have nothing for you. Perhaps next week I will have a “Tirade” on why I can’t find my writing skills, although it’s probably trapped in my pile of laundry I still need to do.
