I am not a good blogger
The idea of blogging still isn't quite clear to me – I guess I'm not a people person and blogging – as I understand it now - requires keeping up contacts, constant visiting and commenting and back-commenting, linking etc. I am bad in these kinds of things and what's worse – I am not very consequent and systematic in writing either. So all that makes me non-blogger-material, but as it is - I have a blog. So what is there to do?

Of course, I could delete the blog but as all that wouldn't be bad enough, I am not good in definite decisions either, so the blog is what it is – neither fish nor fowl.

So once again a try to reanimate the dying patient – at least I have something to tie in with – the picture. I wanted to write a story to it – I couldn't for two main reasons:

First
As I stated above I am not very consequent and systematic in writing – I won't analyze the phenomenon as extensively as I could but just to state that it is not laziness: besides inspiration a writer needs room for writing. Not necessarily "a" room but as Virginia Woolf states in her "A Room of One's Own" the freedom of writing without being disturbed by the everyday crap that takes most of our time and energy (of course Virginia Woolf described it with much more sophistication than I just did). Some of us – and I live with one of those – are able to just take this freedom and shut out everything else – I can't do this. Maybe the urge to write is not as strong inside me as it needs to be.

Second
I am stuck in the first phase of writing – the idea. There it was, a sketch of a sculpture that had an immense affect on my aesthetic sensation. Therefore the story has to keep up with the affect – no romance, no happy or unhappy love, nothing of this sort – it would have to be something completely different but the harder you try to be different, the more unnatural you get. So I gave up, first to let it ripen but as usual "the everyday crap" won and here we are again.