Here's a lovely post from Moby.com that truly captures what I feel at this very moment. Not only is he a great musician, but he's funny as hell.
"I've got nothing to say. Really. The well is dry. The udders are dusty. The uterus of my mind is like a barren wasteland, replete with tumbleweeds.
I'm preoccupied with finishing the next record. So all interesting thoughts have been pushed aside by thoughts and concerns regarding such fascinating subjects such as 'compression or not?' '1db of 8k or not?' etc.
Can't you hear the tumbleweeds just blowing around in the wasteland of my mind? Have you ever seen a tumbleweed up close and in person? They're tough little critters. You expect them to be kind of soft and fluffy, but oh no, they're tough. If one were to hit you you might be surprised to find yourself kind of scratched up. And people would ask you, 'why are you all scratched up?' and you'd say 'I just got hit by a tumbleweed', and they'd look at you with a new found awe. Cos very few people have an encounter with a tumbleweed and live to tell the tale."