Drought (is My Kink)

I hope this diatribe doesn't come off as petulant.  If I'm being honest, it's not really a diatribe.  It's a...spiel?  I'm soapboxing myself.  See, I'm going through a phase that every film fanatic encounters at one point or another (perhaps multiple times); I'm experiencing a dry spell.  Basically, I have next to no interest in watching movies.  This has happened before and it did elapse.  I'm still trepidatious.  I'm covered in figurative cold sweat, which mixes well with literal semen.  Who knew?

Why the anxiety?  It's no secret that our brains can fuck with us on a royal level.  What if this dry spell doesn't end?  I always "snap back" in October, but what if this is the year that I don't?  Goddamn.  I revere the horror genre.  That hasn't changed, and none of my opinions have been refashioned.  For example, I will always hold War of the Gargantuas in high regard.  But I don't want to watch it right now.  I don't want to watch anything right now.

I'm not closing shop.  In fact, I'll probably review a movie next week, but right or wrong, I felt it was necessary to let my quaint readership know why I'm not currently pumping out horror content the way I did in the site's younger days.  Hopefully, my nerd impulses will crash back into my gullet.  It's okay to cry, baby.  Baby?  That device wasn't meant for...God, no.  OH, GOD, NO!!!!!!!!!