In Dungeons & Dragons 3.5 edition there is a spell (printed in the Complete Scoundrel) that conjures up a block of wood 5 ft. on a side named blockade (they tend to use italics to indicate spell names in those books). The spell tickles my fancy, and even though in practice I didn’t end up using it as often as I thought (because most enemies use melee weapons rather than ranged ones), along with grease it has become one of my favorite 1st-level spells. I like spells that have versatility and perhaps a touch of humor about them.
However, the blockade I’m facing for my other blog is less amusing to me: writer’s block. Y’know, the more you decide something is, the fewer other things it can be? I’m beginning to feel like I’m painting myself into a corner. I have the cheese review line of articles, which I’m not willing to give up, yet to continue to get it to grow I need better access to cheese (and more money wouldn’t hurt). I have plain ol’ writer’s block for the Around the House humor articles; I had an idea for one the other day but I wasn’t near a computer or paper and I can’t remember what it was now.
I’m faced with the decision of how many ongoing article series one blog should try to support before it gets meaninglessly broad and difficult to follow, or if, in fact, it would be OK to write singular articles that don’t have anything to do with an entire series of others. Perhaps that’s exactly what I should do, I just wonder if I throw too many things into the Musings that it will lose all sense of cohesion and clarity. Then again, there seem to be some folks who like the journal, and it really has no cohesion whatsoever aside from a poetry theme. I’ve even considered starting a plethora of separate blogs, but the idea is unappealing for some reason.
Hrrmmm. Well, speaking of which, let me re-write an old poem of mine from memory that obviously mirrors Mending Wall by Robert Frost. I’d guess I wrote it sometime around 2006.
Something there is that doesn’t love a blog
that sends the frosty eye-roll over it
and casts the catchy titles as no fun
and leaves gaps even two can mock in jest
the work of spellchecks is another thing:
I have come after them and made repair
where they have left not one “to” as a “too”
but they would have the feelings out of hiding
to please the whelps with blogs. The gaps I mean,
no-one has seen them made or heard them made
but at friendship mending-time we find them there
I let my buddy know beyond the ill
and on a day we meet to say “we’re fine”
and set the blog between us once again.
We keep the blog between us as we go.
To each the hardships that have fallen to each
and some are nice, and some so flatly stall
we have to use a spell to keep our patience:
“Stay where you are until my heart’s returned!”
We wear our fingers rough with typing them.
Oh, just another kind of online game,
one on a side. It comes to little more:
There where it is we do not need the blog:
she is “just fine” and I am “emo” brooding.
My “emo” rants will never get across
and eat the joy within her eyes, I tell her.
She only says, “Not now, try someday later.”
Love is the mischief in me, and I wonder
if I could put a notion in her head:
“Why wait ’til someday later? Isn’t it
where there is pain?
But here there is no pain.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
what I was shutting in or shutting out
and to whom I was like to give offence.
Something there is that doesn’t love a blog,
that wants it down. I could say “Elves” to her,
but she’s not elven-sprightly and I’d rather
she just be herself. I see her there
bringing resolve grasped firmly by the top
in each hand, like a tutting grandma armed.
She moves in darkness as it seems to me –
not of hearts only and mistakes to leave.
She will not go beyond the social saying
and thus afraid (for once before, she fell)
she says again, “Not now, try someday later.”