C'est la vie

Blogger's Block has struck.

I don't think I'm really a blogger, so don't ask me how I caught it. But I did.

(Maybe from hanging out with real bloggers).

I am sending my blogging self to a cafe in Paris. I told her I expect her to have something interesting to say by next week.

My writing self is happily unblocked and will, with some luck, be able to find an empty table by an outlet at a Starbucks in Fort Collins.

This isn't as easy as it may sound.

My blogging self is hoping to run into Hemingway, maybe at Le Deux Magots, but my writing self sure isn't. Blogging self knows it would make a good entry.

Writing self knows he was a great writer, but also a bit of an arrogant misogynist.

Writing self also just learned that a man is blond, but a woman is blonde.

Au revoir.