quiet on the south brooklyn front

my guitar and i seem to be at odds with one another.
we've been staring at each other accusatorily for the last two weeks, when ostensibly i should have been channelling my turmoil into some of the most profound and beautiful and wrenching music i have ever written.
the problem is, right now...right now we're not working together too well. i picked her up today, confident that now that i've regained some semblance of equilibrium, we'd be in business. i picked her up and promptly dissolved into a miasma of racking sobs. it was a little shocking, because it came completely out of nowhere. because i actually AM, for the most part, feeling better. and it's scary because i have a show in ten days and right now...right now i'm afraid of my instrument.
so it's a big fat catch-22 that i don't know what to do with. i won't be able to put all this to rest until i write about it, and it seems that i won't be able to write about it until i put it to rest.
how's that for a conundrum. tormented artist, indeed.