Creative Lull in Retrospect

I haven't really felt like writing lately.
That's a lie.
I have been writing, but in a different book, not even my journal. Perhaps my friend is right, and I am on the edge of some crazy realization, maybe I am just not that excited about much right now. In any case, I don't think that I ought to look into it so much. What if I am giving myself a recess from over analyzing every little thing that is going on in my life? What if I am only giving myself a deserved break from it all?
I am sitting in the living room-stoned. I am watching the redhead starlet create a denim gown, Lisa is tucked away, sound asleep in bed, and I am wondering why it is that I have not been writing.
Steak Palace was the usual tonight, annoying guests, managers with a severe lack of aptitude and sense of urgency, and the ever available alcoholic. I feel despondent when it comes to trying to relate to anyone, or anything in my day-to-day life. The other day the kid asked me if I was being quiet because I was "getting over" him? Not going to lie, that was awkward, but what seemed most insincere was my face made of stone barely offering an explanation.
Maybe I was bored, perhaps I was tired, it's possible that I was purgatorying between throwing in the towel and waving it as a white flag.
Alas, this. What started as a forced entry, almost seems invited.

stay tuned.