I’ve never been cock blocked by another man or woman, but I can’t imagine it being half as painful as battling writer’s block. You know I’m not even completely sure I know what writer’s block is, perhaps I’m just not a very good writer, hence the struggle, or could be that this grey and rainy weather wears my ass down and transforms me into Debbie Downer (super power: depression), who the fuck knows, (can I get a shrink, maybe a scientist to help me out on this one?).

My beautiful life partner Jessika and I are currently enduring board block,this is perhaps worse than cock block, writers block and Tetris block(s) combined, and then some. On the bright side Jess gets to roam the beautiful city of Chicago, Illinois, sing for an American audience and she gets to see Navy Pier) and I get a week off to binge on The Wire (Omar’s comin’), work out in my living room, read A Clash of Kings and visit the dentist, but when you’re in love like I am premium television, a great book, fitness and dental check ups just don’t hold up. I only hope Chicago is a suitable temporary replacement for myself.

What matters to me;

Love – At least that’s what others have called it, though I believe a new word should be instated to describe how I feel about that sweet, sweet love of mine.

Comedy – I am after all a stand up comedian, as slow as writing is going these days. With colossal distractions like school and socializing my work is really suffering, but my family and cowardice keep me from leaving and farthing my career. Do I really want to do a minimum of three years of schooling just to do something that is quite frankly my plan B???

Journalism – Yeah. I love the news, I love writing and I love shoving how much I know in people’s faces, but do I really want to drive a car and farther fuck our planet over, do I want to end up covering fluff pieces for the local new… not fucking likely! But journalism needs people with intestinal fortitude, especially now, in an age where TMZ and worse Fox News are considered reliable sources of news, maybe I really do need to do this. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

I suppose the point of this entire thing is not cock/border/writer’s block, it’s love and life and what’s next, what is my legacy going to be. I don’t know about you folks, but shit seems incredibly uncertain for me right about now, the only certainty I have is love… and the fact that The Wire can never ever disappoint me.


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