The poster tagline for The Perfect Storm read:
In the fall of 1991, the Andrea Gail left Gloucester, Mass. and headed for the fishing grounds of the North Atlantic.
Two weeks later, an event took place that had never occurred in recorded history.
You know how it ends, with the camera framing Mark Wahlberg bobbing up and down in massive, violent waves in the dark of night. The camera recedes, revealing the disparity in size between Wahlberg's head, all that remains above the surface of the water, and the sheer magnitude of the angry ocean around him. Inevitably, he disappears, swallowed by forces far greater than him.
Something analogous happened to me, just a crazy convergence of different life pressures, and right now I'm the Mark Wahlberg character, bobbing in the ocean. Anyone following my posting frequency here will know that I'm usually better about checking in here on a regular basis.
Cooking, exercise, reading, paying bills, laundry, keeping up with personal e-mail and friends and family...all have dropped off the list. You'll be glad to know I've drawn the line at personal hygiene and continue to shower on a daily basis, but I'm starting to think that might need only be a dotted line.
More on all the chaos once it's over. Laughably, amidst all this insanity I also have to move apartments this weekend and haven't packed more than a box so far.
If I had more energy, I'd try to keep up here, but even more than inspiration, writing requires sheer physical stamina and mental energy, both of which I have little of now.
But bear with me, I shall return, and sooner, I hope, than later.