On other blogs, I’ve read what I’m about to post right here: I don’t feel like writing anymore!

I’ve fallen again into that sticky web that’s gooing me up with mental syrup. It says, “Irv, you’re boring.”

Thinking this way is like walking into a cocktail party, joining five strangers, starting a story and everyone walks away. That’s what flashes through my mind as I sit down to scribe some awesome shit that no one’s ever thought before. (Is that possible?)

Sure, I’ve been distracted. I’m visiting my folks, both in their nineties, and I have fix-it chores to do in their house, things to do they’ve planned for me, and things to do I’ve planned for them. But all that’s an excuse for what’s really going down in my brain.

It’s those damn neurotic questions again!

  • Does anyone care what I think?
  • Should I care if they don’t?
  • And am I really that jazzed about throwing ideas into the wind?

I won’t answer these questions. If I did, Irving’s Journey would stop in its tracks. But trudging on, I keep in mind that advice I read about getting websites started and how Newbie’s like me have to be patient.

I am patient! (On good days.) Really I am! But I don’t want to be delusional. And boring.


Every year my wife asks me to write one of those December year-in-review tomes we all get in the mail. “Irv, will you? Everyone loves your letters.”

“No they don’t,” I always answer. “Molly in Australia loves my letters. One woman in Perth is not everybody.”

And then I go on to explain that no one but us cares if Junior, our stray cat disappeared, to be replaced by an identical pussy from Who-Knows-Where; or that Uncle Jerry and Aunt Ellie died. Does Mike and Debbie Prestin, or Thom and Doreen know my uncle and aunt? Of course not. Do they care about their passing? How could they? Do I care about Rick and Susan’s Uncle Jerry’s and Aunt Elly? Or Paul Barnett’s?

I don’t. And I’m bored when I read about people’s relatives I don’t know.

(I can say this because none of the people who send us Christmas letters read my blog.)

So I beg my wife, “C’mon… Don’t make me write another banal letter!”

“Irv…” my wife responds, as she does every year. “Everyone loves your letters.”

So I write the letter, hoping someone cares about identical feral cats with squeaky but demanding meows and bad attitudes.

And then I think…that’s it. That’s the last one. No more annual reports. And then one or two comments come back. “I really loved your letter, Irv,” followed by a few more, “I-liked-your-letter” responses.

Two “loved” and three “liked”. Humm… Somebody DID care. Five people decided to trade off watching Wheel of Fortune to read my shit…for maybe…five minutes. Maybe I wasn’t boring.


But damn it!  When writing stops being fun, I don’t want to do it anymore! And that goes for everything in my life!

My wife advises, “Irv, why don’t you just do stuff for fun. You’re always writing-writing-writing.”

Yes I am, even when I’m working-working-working, like on a film for money, which is happening now; even though I took a week off to visit my parents, because Mom’ brother (Uncle Jerry) and sister (Aunt Elly) died a few months ago, and Mom’s heart is broken, and now SHE needs some fun ’cause she was Jerry and Elly’s mommy when they were five and two and she was seven, ‘cause her mother got sick all the time and pulled my mom out of class for weekly babysitting, like eighty-plus years ago.

Mom barely finished high school. Didn’t matter. You wouldn’t believe the accomplishments she racked up in ninety-one years. She’s a local hero.

But do you care about that?

I didn’t. Not until I listened to Mom’s stories in detail. Then Mom became a real person in my life and I grew up a little bit more. I wrote about it last week.

Ya know, sometimes we just have to know the DETAILS. But I’ve lost the WOW! about writing them.


So I wanna stop writing for a while and play drums again. I just traded my vintage silver sparkle early-sixties Rogers collection (at the time, the best made drums in the world) for a top-of-the-line DW six-piece drum kit (the best drums of today). I haven’t been this excited about a new toy since I was fourteen!

And I wanna get back into a band and sit behind my array of shiny cymbals and glittering shells and make noise. I just learned the (Bernard) Purdie Shuffle drum groove and I want test drive it inside a song in some biker dive where I play for beer and nobody cares if the band sucks of not.

Now THAT’S FUN! I’m going back to drumming.


If you’ve read this far, you’ve noticed there’s no revelations. No deep, provocative what-ever’s. I took the week off.

And next week may be the same, and maybe the week after that.

Or maybe Monday I’ll get inspired again and write about God.


This post was originally published on CuriosityQuills.com.



  1. Erin R. says:

    I really love reading about your journey. I’ve missed connecting with you for a while, but I’m glad that I have re-connected. I often think about whether I should continue to “do” what ever it is, I’m doing, or not. I recently put much of my thoughts from this subject, from the past year, into a single framework. I am curious if any of this resonates with you:


    A. Everything takes time. Often, the more important, or complex, the task/journey, the more time will be required. Timing (the intersection of things in space, at a particular time) is also very significant.
    B. There are usually forces at play, steering the direction of the task/journey. Inertia and momentum are real forces in the physical, and the non-physical world.

    What “to do”:

    1. Clearly define what “is.” Observe, learn, discover, question. This includes defining “why,” although defining “why” requires interpretation, which is prone to error, due to differences in perspective, memory, etc.
    2. Clearly define what “could be.” This includes what is required to transition from what is, to what could be.
    3. Choose to participate. (with what “is,” or in the transition to what “could be”).

    I’m looking forward to reading more of your journey, in the future.



    1. Irving H. Podolsky says:

      Nice to hear from you, E!

      Responding to your statements:

      Whenever I set upon a new direction that isn’t an escalation or advancement of what I’m doing, I too evaluate the leap. But in somewhat different ways.

      As you pointed out, there are two aspects to a creative jump: the practical and the metaphysical. Both are necessary set-ups but the metaphysical/emotional prep can eliminate “real-life” steps, sometimes many.

      So for me, I start with the “soul-searching” question first: How passionate am I about what I’m about to do?

      I need to know if I’m supercharged enough to go the distance, and do the homework, and be patient enough to walk-the-walk as the goal manifests.

      Because if I’ve got the PASSION, the JOURNEY is as much fun and satisfying as finally reaching the target. In fact, the journey IS the target, but expanded.

      If you’re having fun along the way, the time it takes isn’t an issue!

      Of course you have to do the hardcore research before you step onto the road. You can’t start a new career without knowing a lot about what you’re about to enter. You don’t want to make dumb mistakes that can be avoided or start walking in the wrong direction.

      But with a mature grounding in the process and a “Let’s-get-going!” attitude, as well as a diminished fear of failure, your passion will bring you straight to the shortcuts! AND YOU WON’T HAVE TO LOOK AT THE DOWNSIDE. Just focus on the goal and have fun.

      RULE OF THUMB: Be very clear about what you want but don’t try controlling the way it comes to you.

      Hope this helps.


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