Woke up this morning. der der der dum. Crawled out of bed and made coffee, switched on the computer and lit up a ciggie with the thought that I really must write something today. Yes, finally I'm going to write that little something that will spark my creative juices to get the fuckityfuck flowing again. Something the world will recognise for the genius that it is. Yes, I say to myself 'the muse shall return today.' I stare at the screen nothing happens. I have a quick gander at Facebook, take my goes on scrabble and like something that someone said on their own thread. Read some sports pages online, more coffee, more cigarettes. Where is that bitch? I go back to bed and read a book for a while and then have a mid morning snooze. Get up again, go to the computer. Come on baby, come hither. I know you're there. I crack my knuckles, fingers poised over the keyboard... nothing happens. I go to the bog to take a dump and have a good muse on where the muse has gone - down the fucking toilet, I suspect. I flush. Nothing happens. Feck! Anyone know a good plumber? Pour bucket of water down the loo and slouch back into the living room to stare at the computer some more. At 2.00 I realise that I still haven't showered and got dressed yet. I skin up and put something music on the sound system instead (Joe Gibbs and the Professionals' African Dub Chapter Three. if you're in the slightest bit interested) go back to the keyboard, stare at the screen and wonder if she'll ever return. 2.45 I write some incidental musings on nothing much on the EDF. Stare at the screen again... Five minutes later, give up and finally get in the shower.