“Do men not go to the doctors or something?” I ask, thumbing through pages of hollywood gossip.
  “Sorry?” my wife asks, doing the same, sans face-making.
  “Every time we come here it’s the same deal, no magazines for men, just crap-tastic fluff. Why are there no magazines about cars or boobs?”
  “The dentist has those. The doctors cater for women and the dentist for men. Simple.”
  “But I’m a man and I visit the doctors. And you’re a woman and you visit the dentist.”
  “Thanks for noticing, dear.”
  “Noticing what?”
  “That I’m a woman,” with this she rubs my leg – reassuringly? – and continues to read about the latest scandal. I wonder if she’s as shocked as the writer seems to be that Lindsay Lohan is in jail.
  “There’s something severely wrong with the current waiting room system. I want to be entertained in all waiting room scenarios.”
  “You can’t have your cake and eat it, dear.”
  “What does that even mean? You make no sense sometimes.”
  “Well let’s just think of my sense-making as the cake, and lord knows you ate that a long time ago.”
  I blink.

Writer’s block – We all deal with it in different ways. As you’ve no doubt ascertained by now, Blame Per Diem exists solely to give a giant up yours to my own writing demons. But before I had the wonderful idea to write a new freaking story every single day for a year oh God what was I thinking I created an exercise to punish myself into writing.

Three hundred seconds. I would give myself three hundred seconds to craft an entire, miniature story. These three hundred seconds incorporate everything from the preliminary stages of idea formulating all the way to editing, formatting and proof reading. It’s a rush, in more ways than one, to say the least, but it’s fun and it get’s my butt in gear for bigger-picture stuff. And also, I hope, it chips away at the stubborn perfection complex I have when it comes to writing. Posting something that I’ve only been in contact with for five minutes, to let it go so soon after birth, is refreshing and terrifying.

Because my aforementioned cure has managed to contract a nasty case of the block, I decided to go back to this old method for today. Inane, perhaps, entertaining, hopefully, but most of all, I think we can all agree, a troubling truth. Next time you’re waiting for a check up, think about it.


~ by Joseph Blame on August 12, 2010.

One Response to “Troubling”

  1. The reason there are no men mags in waiting rooms is because men don’t bring them in. The Doctor’s don’t provide those flimsy rags, sick people do. Apparently, men are uncharitable creatures.

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