Writing about not writing

Was going to post this long whinefest about not finding my muse or whatever the lame excuse might be for not writing; about the stacks of writing books and magazines I own and which look quite impressive piled up on that shelf in my closet; about hanging out with real writers who produce stuff; about how I keep imagining myself writing and intending to write and preparing to write and doing everything except actually showing up to write.

Then I find I can't even write about that, either. I'm just a wannabe wannabe.