block

Here I sit at the computer. It's Monday, the day I promise to post my blog entry each week, musing on the arts and arts education.

xxxoooo [[[[ ppp ttttt uuuuu llll

I'm enrolled in a Certificate in Writing program at UC Berkeley. Taking classes in writing should be helping, yes? Usually I can think of dozens of ideas to write about. This is the first time in ages that I can remember having the dreaded "writer's block." xxxxpppptttt;;;++++

I glance over to the desk next to me and see a poem by William Carlos Williams (did he ever have The Block?)
"so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens"

Blogless moment.

But wait. My husband and I have four chickens in our backyard. We were just supposed to be babysitting them until their real owners found a permanent place where they could care for them. Six months later the chickens - or their replacements in two cases -- are still here and the owners have faded away. Today the chickens, too, are experiencing a dry spell: actually they haven't laid any eggs for two weeks. Eggless. Blogless. Blog. Block. Similar. Send ideas!

Perhaps dry spells, writer's block, and lack of egg-laying serve a purpose. If the barrow isn't empty, then it can't receive any fresh liquid. But the term "writer's block" implies something is in the way, an impediment, not just emptiness. I'll check my tool box and see what I might use to chip away at the old Block.