Last American Exit...

I'm pretty sure they keep this exit well hidden. I couldn't say for sure where it is, but I'd like to know. I've had the worst case of writers block for the last two months. I get 2/3 of the way through a song or story and it just grinds to a halt. I've finished a few things, but I have yet to pass judgement on their worthiness to be pulled out of the 'For Your Eyes Only' category. Yes, I'm stressed and distracted, but that shit's going to happen and it's not an excuse to give up. Seriously. There's presently 6 sets of semi-finished lyrics on my wall, another 4 on the computer and god knows how many balled up in the garbage beneath all the unpayed bills.

I'm sorry to pout. I'm sorry to whine. I just need to write this down in the hopes that it goes away. You know, a literal clearing of the mind. Maybe I should try some drugs. From my University literature studies, I gather that writers are fond of opiates and poisons (Absinthe?) Maybe I'll give it one more month. I'm not that worried yet. Just frustrated. As such, I want to find this exit and spend some time at its destination. Is it a resort? A middle american town? Something Jennifer Lopez will never find? All questions that burn in my mind and keep me awake at night. I think Neil Finn might live in this place. He may, in fact, be the mayor. Anyway, I need his help. I need some guidance. Some inspiration. Some money to pay the damned bills and the rent.

On a partly relevant tangent, it's in this relentless season of summer that I always think of Neil's song, 'Nails in My Feet.'


Total surrender
Your touch is so tender
Your skin is like water
On a burning beach
And it brings me relief
It brings me relief