Infinite fucking sigh

Trying to get some writing done this week is like trying to grate concrete with a sponge. Maybe it's just my approach, or maybe I just need to stop thinking about it entirely.

Maybe I should just get smashed this weekend and try to write and see what kind of garbage comes out. The sad thing is, I don't think I could stop being over-critical of myself just because I was drunk. That's a disheartening realization. So again, infinte fucking sigh.