I can feel a dry spell coming on.

Let me elaborate ... since taking on a full time (well, 35 hrs per week) job again, I've been keeping up nicely with my writing, probably putting down more words than I was with unlimited leisure time. Part of it was a few opportunities for new venues falling into my lap, occasions which I rose to admirably, plus the Resonance deadline necessitated extra work as well. Still, between stealing a few minutes here and there on the clock and heading right for the keyboard immediately after returning home, I was pumping out fairly decent stuff on a regular basis. This past weekend slowed me down. I had ample time to work, but just couldn't get my brain around it. There are no assignments outstanding, just various projects that, if correctly executed and pitched to the right editor, might expand my horizons and gain me a few months of home officing. But I'm stuck, nothing cooking, so last night I gave up on trying.

Instead, Lori and I went down the street to a fancy joint called Rosebud (not a gay bar, although everyone who works there or patronizes the place seems gay to me) for Manhattans. This has become one of our favorite diversions, ordering Manhattans in different bars around town. Typically the dive bars I prefer atmosphere-wise just can't make 'em. Although it's just bourbon and vermouth, there's something about the shake and the presentation that requires a bartender who knows more than just shots. So we have to upscale it ... if anyone needs to know, we've found that Von's on Pine wins as far as the value to quality ratio (you can't beat $3.00 for a Manhattan made with Jack Daniels, and that's all the time, no happy hour price), but it's a fucking rib joint, so you can only hang out there for so long. The Deluxe Grill on Broadway serves the best possible Manhattan, but you gotta pay for the privilege. $8.00, but that's with Makers Mark in a huge glass, easily worth two of anyone else's drinks in potency. Still a little uppity for my tastes, but I always feel comfortable there, enough for two drinks anyhow.

Last night Rosebud did the trick, but we had to suffer through the bartender's impersonations and juggling. Like I said, everyone is gay.

So if anyone is still reading, you've probably noticed that I'm going to have to work out my writer's block here with mundane details, more mundane than the average weblog (I fucking hate the word "blog" and I just won't use it). Better make some coffee.