I wish I could say I have much more to say today than I did yesterday, but not really. I can't sat I lost my muse if I have never claimed to have one. At least last night I had an excuse of sorts, I was chatting online and the conversation was interesting enough that I didn't want to give it up for a blog. I got to talk about local bars, cooking, Andrew Vachss and bike trails. Tonight no such excuse can be made, I am just completely uninspired.
I have Pandora cranked up in hopes that the gentle strains of whatever comes off of my station somehow permeate my brain in order to fascillitate an idea or two of what to blog about.
Not that things haven't happened. I could spend time pontificating about the demise of one Osama Bin Laden, or however they are spelling his name these days. All I know is that he sleeps with the fishes, conspiracy nuts be damned, and his sleep warms the cockles of my heart. I don't get the fascination of some that need to see his dead body on their TV screen as some sort of confirmation to that fact. I realize that we live in a time where the Sarah Palin's of the world claim to be experts in foreign affairs because they can see Russia out their window, but I really don't need the opinions of a bunch of wannabe CSI detectives who need to see an image of a dead Osama Bin Laden on their TV screens so they my be able to ascertain a cause of death. The cause is quite simple, he picked a fight with the wrong people. And he paid for it. And no amount of hiding in Pakistan, as if this were a game of tag and that nation were "base", was going to protect him in the long run.
Other than that nugget of news though, I am not sure what there is to talk about. I have been out of sorts, lots on my mind and not all of it good. Well maybe that is a mistatement. Not all of it is easy would probably be more appropriate. I seem to have unleashed a genie that I thought I had long ago locked up, and some things I haven't experienced in years have come rushing back. Part of me wants to welcome all of that back, like a long lost favorite sweater, and get all comfy in the warmth that it provides, but part of me thinks this is a path I have explored before and the results were not good, best bet would be to just recork the bottle and walk away. So I sit here on my bed, striking my best "The Thinker" pose, with my chin resting on my knuckles, over thinking everything as if by turning the tea leaves enough in my mind at some point an answer might come spilling out. But that process just comes up with more questions than answers, and being the curious sort that I am, questions are like brain crack to me, a great mental rush which only adds to the problem. Because I am almost certain the answers will suck. It's like trying to balance out a coke high by shooting heroin, not the most reccommended treatment plan. I have this running joke with Sammy at work, where there are a couple customers that come in that I am smitten with, Sammy asks me why I don't talk to them and I say once I talk to them the illusion is over. There is something to keeping illsuion alive, lest reality ruin it.
I just read that last paragraph and I don't know whether it is deep or stupid. The best I can hope for is both I think. I guess that is why I haven't done much introspective me talk on the page, it gets all confusing and turns out like jibberish. It is one thing to tell stories, which I think I have a small gift for (I think I have a slightly bigger gift for being funny, at least until someone tells me I'm not) but it is quite another to sit down and try to put on the page what is going on in the innermost workings of my mind when I am not even sure. It is that line in the sand I wrote about earlier, I am inching closer to it but like a kid about to dive in the pool for the first time with no floaties, I just can't cross that line yet. Maybe that is me being selfish, after all I could milk this teetering on the edge thing for quite a few blog entries before actually diving in, but I would think that part of it is also out of respect for someone else, someone who doesn't need to be brought onto this page or forum only because they happen to make the mistake of knowing me, or at least knowing of me. And maybe that is part of the line, simple respect. Everyone knows that I have drug people through the mud here, friend, family and foe alike when they did something that I didn't respect, but when someone's only crime is to make my acquaintance, that's a different animal.
Great another paragraph of deep stupidity, I did learn something in the last paragraph however, you might have too. I know a psychologist would have (and I play one in the blog sometimes). One of the things about when I sit down and write like this (provided you made it this far) is that unlike a normal blog entry where I usually try to be somewhat creative (and dare I say witty) is that long before blogging became the hip thing that all of the cool kids did, while I wouldn't keep a diary (way too much work) I would sometimes throw my thoughts down on a piece of paper and then reread it to see if I couldn't pick something up. A hint, a clue, something to take back to Shaggy and Scooby in the van, that might help me indentify what it was that was wrong. Let's just say there were clues in that last paragraph, and it might just be time to close the book on this caper.
But in order to do that I need a couple of things, and there is only one place to get them and it isn't here. That means you will have to tune into the next episode, or maybe the one after that, or even the one after that, depending on events over the next couple of days. Sit tight kids, all will eventually be revealed, I promise.
"Why not go out on a limb? Isn't that where the fruit is?"
ReplyDelete~ Frank Scully