Straight No Chaser

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...in atlanta, that is, after a turbulent flight bookended by two unnecessary four-hour airport adventures--one at home and one here. the weather has cleared up, in the sense that the rain has stopped and the temperature has upped itself at least twenty blessed degrees.

but i left a horrific mess in all but one of my classes, a hostile roommate-relationship poised to explode into catastrophe, and a disaster of a romance that promises to get even worse as soon as this semester wraps (i'll write about that when we get to "M is for Marcus"). in other words, atlanta, land of peaches and estates that i once loved, has turned into a giant sprawling fiasco, and, having been here considerably less than twenty-four hours, i already want to go home again.

so i'm going to throw myself into this writing thing for a couple days, in the hopes that maybe some of the catharsis i got from this past summer's random burst of creativity will repeat itself. the problem, and what always complicates spontaneous self-expression, is that once again, i don't know what to write. i've got a stack of essays i could post but i'm sure no one would read them; there are a million smutty vignettes scrawled out in my notebook but even smut gets repetitive; i've been through the contests page a dozen times and nothing speaks to me the way that one writer's cramp did, the one that spawned "marbles," which was and is every bit as popular as it is anomalous.

any suggestions?