huh?
I literally have nothing in my brain to post. In some ways, this has
been an exceptionally weird week, with exceptionally weird happenings.
I've had a few moments I'd just as soon have left behind, and others
that I will probably cherish for a good while. All in all, though, I'd
label it as weird.
And it has left me blank. As blank as my
expression in a math class. As blank as the bullets in a movie gun. As
blank as the swear words in a network broadcast of a Tarantino film. As
blank as a white shirt for the first ten or so minutes I wear it.
I've been sitting here trying to think of something wise to say, but nothing is coming through.
I
have dusted my lamp with my finger. I have set my alarm for tomorrow
morning. I have taken off my earrings. I have gotten up and folded two
t-shirts and a pair of jeans. I have placed a straw hat on my head, and
taken it off. I have given some thought to a mild craving for hot
wings. I have organized my briefcase for tomorrow.
Still nothing.
I
have surfed the net a little, and not found anything of value. I have
gotten up to pluck my eyebrows. I have reminded myself how to do the
'worm' dance on the floor of my bedroom. I have searched for song
lyrics that might make me grin, so I can send them to people I love.
Still nothing.
I'm
wearing sunglasses now, and mango lip balm. I went to get a glass of
milk -- it tasted nothing like hot wings. I can't stand it when I have
nothing to write.
I know my heart and head are generally
bubbling over most of the time. I know that I see things nearly every
day that make me want to call everyone I know and babble. I know that
I've had conversations recently that have inspired serious,
life-changing thoughts in me. I see people with sad eyes, and I want to
know their stories. I see people with happy eyes, and I want to rejoice
in their joy. I even got to pet a really cute dog earlier today, and
when he saw me walk into a wall, he licked my hand, as if to say,
"Dude, it's okay. I've done it, too."
But I have absolutely jack to write about.
Yeesh.
So, I guess I'd better just get my butt into bed, where I'm sure all
manner of blogworthy subjects will fill my head. Until I get up again.
Final truths:
My roommate makes a good angel food cake.
The giant spider in my bathroom this morning looked almost wistful
as I clomped a shampoo bottle onto his hairy little self. I bet you
didn't know a spider could look wistful. But I swear, as the shadow of
the Neutrogena Clean moved over him, he tucked a volume of Yeats into
his spider pocket, sighed, and resigned himself to his fate.
Frappucinos are a secret plot to addle my generation with caffeine
and sugar to the point where we willingly watch reality tv and listen
to Ashlee Simpson.
Natural peanut butter is a secret plot to leave my mouth tasting like I just chewed on sawdust for a half an hour.
One should do these things at least once a year: jump into a body of
water while clothed, swing on a kids' swing, eat a whole meal with your
hands, prank phone call one of your more serious friends, hold a small
animal gently in your palm, listen raptly to a boring story, tell
someone excellent that you love them and need them, and tell the
following joke:
Q: What did the zero say to the eight?
A: "Nice belt."
11:49:04 PM 
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