these prunes are made for dancin

ok so im no writer but when i say i have writers block when regarding writing for my blog then surely the implications of this go far beyond initial reasoning. a blog is an online declaration of musings. if i have writers block on my online jopurnal than is my existence as a social commentator defunct? have i no more musings to share? am i a cabbage?

if i was a cabbage id be a bit concerned, it seems that the demand for cabbage has declined somewhat, all i could hope for is that some lovely chinese restaurant will take me under their crispy duck wings (haha, im so funny) for me to loiter for my last days. at least id die with the piece of mind that my life served a purpose in the fact that i ended up actually being served.

do i just wanna talk romcoms? i think that in my present state of mind, that being now, i can actually survive without that amenity, im just too happy to be lifted by such light entertainment! and im not even a cabbage! imagine that!

i smell so good, what a hottie i am

my inspiration for waffle seems to have disintigrated. the only thing that seems to occupy my thoughts is the fact that nothing and everything has changed since the last time i wrote and i just can't get my head round it. am i a person who evolves and changes in accordance to my experiences and the world around me, as transcient as the next person? Or is the me of the present moment entirely different from that of 5 minutes ago? am i me because of what i have and will encounter, or is it because of the overbearing desire to please those around me? is it indeed their experiences that shape me, experiences that i may not even be aware of?

is it possible to live off 2 olives and half a cucumber for an entire episdode of Hollyoaks?