This could get ugly

I have nothing going on in my head due to sickness, so I’m going to complain about being sick for a bit. Or rather, I’m going to attempt to figure out why being sick makes writing so freakhog hard. Of course, trying to write about why writing is currently difficult is…confusing. Basically, I don’t feel that bad, but I have no imagination. I have no playfulness inside my head. I have no interior monologue. Actually, I have an interior monologue, but it’s talking to me like it’s embedded inside of a giant marshmallow. It’s very difficult to hear and even when it does get through all I receive are bland white descriptions of mushiness. And this is bad. Because coming up with a story is all about being playful, all about listening to my inner voice, all about taking in the world around me and screwing with it, all about solving a riddle in reverse. And my brain is currently capable of doing none of these things.
It’s getting to a point where I’m hoping that two people on the subway next to me will suddenly engage in a heartbreaking love story for the ages so I can just take that and slap it onto some paper and not have to work through this marshmallow.
Below is the short video, “George Lucas in Love,” which is a fun little take on how Lucas might have come up with the Star Wars universe. Some days I wish it actually happened like this: