After twelve hours of frustrating "nothingness"

I manage to write several posts in a row (that will provide material for more than a week, because moments like these are scarce). Suddenly, realizing the oddity of this sudden creative rush, I ask: "what's right with me?". But let me rephrase it: "what's write with me?". And I can't stop.

Soon enough I will feel like I have the Ryan Adams syndrome - which isn't necessarily good or bad; it's more like a combination of both. And then I'll force myself to stop.

PS: I googlelise and find out that the thing does exist. And, surprise (!) we're all refering to the same... The things I don't make up.