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Tuesday, March 24, 2009

28: I think I twenty-ate too much

Today was one of those days when this did not want to happen. This writing - good or bad. And I knew it from about 11:00 a.m. onward. I actually sat under a tree and stared up at the sky instead. I returned a library book instead, and browsed for another while I was there. I did real, honest-to-goodness work at my job instead. I thought about thinking about doing my taxes instead. I did things like figure out the price differential on kleenexes that were on sale at the grocery store instead. After thinking I was not hungry, I ate about three dinners and four desserts instead. I watched two hours of reality television featuring women whose faces seemed like they had been badly broken before they'd been stapled backwards to provide the illusion of eternal youth instead. I even did what for me, is among my least favorite tasks on earth as it involves specific time commitment, spending larger quantities of money, fear of disappointing others, fear of the missing unknown big opportunity that hasn't come up yet, searching for ways to use vacation days I may or may not have on work time, all kinds of things - looked into buying a plane ticket. You'll notice I could not even fully commit to buying a plane ticket - so agonizing is the process for me. But still, I looked at some websites. I really did not want to write.

I had some false starts.

At one point, while at work, I started writing about the process of false starts with writing, but nothing more came out.

As soon as I was away from a desk, thoughts began to clutter, to scatter, to attack, but still none in a reasonable way.

Here are things I have discovered so far today that seem like newer or novel declarations:
  • I am currently in love with pretzels, and feel the need to eat great quantities of pretzels daily. I tried to make some sort of comparison between myself and pretzels as to their twists and salt, but really, I think I am just in love with pretzels right now. I am not a pretzel.
  • I realized that for the first time ever today, I actually listened to, and think I understood the lyrics "thunder only happens when it's raining" in the Fleetwood Mac song, and this surprised me - that I'd never stopped to think about what that means before.
  • I like paper versions of things, and the end of newspapers worries me in a "soon all paper will follow!" apocalyptic panic sort of way. I like actual paper greeting cards for their heft and weight and what is written in the handwriting itself of a friend or loved one for this same reason. I like sending them too because mail is one of the cheapest thrills currently available to U.S. citizens.
  • Sometimes lately I feel like carbonite-frozen Han Solo. Like mouth open in a scream of protest, but stopped dead, mid-motion, prevented from action. But I think I worry that if someone cracks through the carbonite, the rest of the sentence might come tumbling out! And I don't know what it would say. Also, while checking the internet to verify "carbonite" as the substance in question, I found gems of copy writing on the StarWars.com web site and really, if they have not achieved the perfect tone in web content and copy, who will? Look at this sentence from Han Solo's bio (and love it):
    But if anything is consistent in Solo's life, it is unpredictability.
  • I love both the song "Jump!" by Van Halen and "Jump! (For my Love)" by the Pointer Sisters. I sing both as karaoke standards when occasion provides.
  • If Bob Newhart actually ran an inn and had a psychiatric practice in real life, which would you rather patronize? Both is an acceptable answer.
I am punking out in grand style today crockers! And so soon upon the heels of a Sunday - poor form. I will, to challenge myself in a new and exciting way, spend the next four minutes free associating! So that you may see where my mind is racing and not going anywhere.
The start? Pretzels:
pretzels twist and shout shout let it all out of my dreams into my car 54 where are you should know better that's no way to treat a ladybug rodney dangerfield can't get no respect his last name, respect that i've never noticed that before, thunder only happens when it's raining and lightning only strikes when you curse God on the putting green in Caddyshack, the danger field itself myself herself the elf, i can't use the selfs correctly in English with any confidence and I have degrees from universities that suggest I should be able to do just that would be something an easter egg with a chick inside pretzels sometimes there is peanut butter and jelly bellys are the first gourmet candy gimmick of pop success but of popcorn flavor, they are gross anatomy and michael gross ties family ties to gross anatomy and i wish he were on grey's anatomy and told someone to make it better.

As you can see my thoughts run to t.v. mostly. Food sometimes.

I may just be a marketing ploy. Maybe I found out, which is why my real brain is frozen in carbonite, and if I am ever melted, that is the truth I would scream. But in so doing, would render myself obsolete.

I am off to squeeze the charmin of dreams.



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