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slump.

that feeling when you know you should write something on your blog, and you really want to write something on your blog, but your writer's block is so profound that you can't even think of a short piece to fill space. so you put up a few lines of self-pitying text.

also, winter's barely started and i've already had my first tumble. feet went right out from under me on a fairly busy street. i have some aches, and a gash that's going to leave a nice little scar on my knee, but nothing too serious. nonetheless, being as clumsy as i am, it doesn't bode well for the next few months that i went arse over tea kettle the first time i let myself walk on the white stuff.

so maybe i'll just say that i got a concussion when i fell [although i didn't]. or i'll say that this spot of writing malaise is my tribute to swansea city, who have been finding new and exciting was to look pretty uninspiring this premier league season. or i'm still trying to come to terms with life in the trump-led world.

if you've read this whole thing, i'm sorry. this isn't a clever intro to an interesting topic. it's a rather whiny post with no other purpose than to make me feel less guilty about getting nothing done here this week, despite really, really wanting to.

ok, i'll stop now.

i can't even be bothered to post a picture with this. 

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