Writer’s Block? Maybe You Just Need a Different Chair
We sometimes miss the most obvious culprit of writer’s block
In my rave days, the most significant source of anxiety was the entry to the party. Lines to get in usually wrapped around the corner and spread down numerous blocks. It sometimes took hours to slog through because everyone had 294832 pockets in their fat pants and all sorts of illegal substances buried within those pockets. Security had their work cut out themselves.
Everything would be thoroughly searched (security would go as far as slipping their fingers under our bras to feel around and pulling our bras away from our bodies to see if anything fell out), so it was stressful to prepare for heading out to the party.
As we inched forward in line, we always agonized. But my friend Chris never understood what the big deal was. “Just put your drugs in your hands when they ask you to empty the contents of your pockets — they never look.”
His solution was putting his drugs right in security’s face. They were so consumed with looking in all the nooks and crannies of his pockets they missed his outstretched, opened hand full of illicit substances right in plain sight.
It was beyond ballsy, but he was right — they never looked there. He never got caught.
