I've been wanting to write for a long time, but you know how it goes. Not sure exactly what I want to say. Too tired to write now. Oh damn, I'm running late, no time to write. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera....
And tonight is no different, really. I am tired from this weekend, and from my body's hard-fought battle against whatever microbe is trying to turn me into a Kleenex ruining machine. And I haven't got a clear idea what I want to say, even though I am almost bursting with thing to write about. I guess I'm not late for anything at the moment, unless you count all the stuff I'm behind on.
Like writing.
You see, this post is recursive on many levels. I'm writing about the reasons I haven't been writing, by way of writing about the reasons I haven't been writing.
The plan now is for this post to be the first tiny flake in a snowball. With careful nurturing and just the right amount of reckless abandon, that snowball will careen down a mountain, laying waste to the hapless village below in a beautifully ridiculous avalanche of metaphor, wit, and well...snow. All the survivors of my poorly thought-out symbolism will face the destruction, solemnly performing the customary farewell dance of their elders, before checking into the YMCA to await their FEMA support.
Ok, now that's just silly. Nobody would believe FEMA support.
Boldly casting aside his completely unintentional segue, the author decides that his snowflake/raindrop imagery has come precipitously close to nonsense. Also, he really isn't kidding about how tired he is, so he's going to bed.
And tonight is no different, really. I am tired from this weekend, and from my body's hard-fought battle against whatever microbe is trying to turn me into a Kleenex ruining machine. And I haven't got a clear idea what I want to say, even though I am almost bursting with thing to write about. I guess I'm not late for anything at the moment, unless you count all the stuff I'm behind on.
Like writing.
You see, this post is recursive on many levels. I'm writing about the reasons I haven't been writing, by way of writing about the reasons I haven't been writing.
The plan now is for this post to be the first tiny flake in a snowball. With careful nurturing and just the right amount of reckless abandon, that snowball will careen down a mountain, laying waste to the hapless village below in a beautifully ridiculous avalanche of metaphor, wit, and well...snow. All the survivors of my poorly thought-out symbolism will face the destruction, solemnly performing the customary farewell dance of their elders, before checking into the YMCA to await their FEMA support.
Ok, now that's just silly. Nobody would believe FEMA support.
Boldly casting aside his completely unintentional segue, the author decides that his snowflake/raindrop imagery has come precipitously close to nonsense. Also, he really isn't kidding about how tired he is, so he's going to bed.