I've already tried to write a column four times and nothing seems worth it. My creativity has been sapped. My wit drained. My analysis lost.

Maybe it was the eight hour play rehearsal I was a part of yesterday. Or the twenty minute set played by 3/4 of my band last night. One of them felt entirely too long with too many people and the other far too short with not enough people.

It could have been the heavy & dreary movement play I witnessed on Friday night about four women freezing and starving to death. Maybe it was watching the Spalding Gray monologue video 'Monster In A Box' about not being able to write his book.

I don't know. When the block happens, I never really know why. If I did, I could write about that. Suddenly, the block is gone because I know something. I have an angle on something. Not now. Not this time.

I'm on my second glass of white wine. Do I need more? Or less?

This isn't when I normally write this column. I had a three-hour theater board meeting this morning when I would normally write this thing. Instead, we talked about this and that relating to the theatre. I never know what we really accomplish, and yet the place keeps chugging along fairly well these days. Weird, but nothing to write about right now.

There was the little girl I gave an acting lesson to this afternoon. She has an audition for a Val Kilmer movie tomorrow in Santa Fe. The hardest part was keeping her still & focused. When I was successful with that, she did all right. I got paid fifty bucks for forty-five minutes of work. I don't know why. I spent most of it on three dollar-a-gallon gas. Maybe the little girl wore me out. Maybe she stole my emotion. Maybe not.

It could have been a bad reaction to last week's full moon. I haven't felt quite right since Wednesday. Not like a sickness, but just off. Just not on.

It could be that my baseball team is already the worst in the league for the third or fourth year in a row. I can't even remember how long it's been now. I don't know why I stick with them. Maybe I'm secretly a masochist and enjoy being told my team is a loser 100 times a year. There is no good reason for my devotion. And yet I root, root, root.

Maybe it's the weather. It's been quite erratic these days. Sun, wind, rain, clouds. Nothing consistent. Just spring. More spring than I'm accustom to this time of year. Even though it's always spring this time of year.

Maybe it's because I haven't been able to see my girl much lately because I'm in rehearsals. Maybe it's because I'm always exhausted after I do see her. Maybe it has nothing to do with her at all.

Maybe it's the war. Maybe it's the anniversaries of the war (mission has been accomplished for some time now).

Maybe it's the Queen of England although I have no idea why.

Maybe I could have come up with something if I really thought about it. Maybe this is the best I could do today considering this is my fifth attempt at a column today.

Maybe I should stop and try again next week.

Maybe not.

Chris Jungle is trying real hard to be the shepherd.