Yah. I've hit that morass of crappy analogy known as writer's block. Everything I try to write is crap, everything seems artificial or forced, and it all has that community-theater-on-cable stench arising from it, like a combination smell of mothballs and basement must.
I have something here. It needs a voice. A way out. I'm not sure how to get there from here.
I had a dream last night of the funniest sketch bit. I don't remember what the joke was, but the punch line was "boobies".