Writing something about writing something.

I’ve had the strange feeling all day that I should write something. Very similar to that nagging urge you get about the time the plane leaves the ground on a vacation trip that keeps telling you that you forgot something important–like the youngest child. All day long that creature in my head, the owner of that blasted “little voice” everyone keeps talking about, has been kicking the back of my brain with a hobnail boot stating rather loudly that I should connect my fingers to something that resembles a keyboard and WRITE SOMETHING!.

I just  hate it when he yells.

It’s not like there isn’t anything to write about. There’s that never ending Malice in Blunderland called politics that provides endless subjects to place on virtual paper.

Big business and all their lying, cheating, stealing, money grubbing ways that brought the economy to it’s collective knees.

And the government that let them do it–again.

And there’s all sorts of new gadgets that I can’t afford that I could make up stories about as if I really owned one.

I could mindlessly rant on about the administration, congress, health care reform, the President, et al making all sorts of ridiculous, unfounded inferences, claims, attacks, innuendos and…

No, wait a minute…Fox News does that already.

And people! People (of which I’m one, I assure you) and their endless antics! There’s always something to write about people as they scurry about their lives, running into all sorts of trouble–or causing it.

Or perhaps I could bitch about the economy and how much I’ve lost in the past several months. I could except for the minor fact that I haven’t lost anything–I was poor before the economy went kablooey.

I know, I could write about getting older or about being a disabled vet who feels like he has to dismantle himself every night before he goes to bed and reassemble himself in the morning before breakfast. I could write about pills and hearing aids and partials and pills and doctors and pills and such. I could blather on about pain and methods of controlling it…

Bleh…

I’ve got it! Stories about the neighbors! That’s it! Stories about the neighbors! Stories about my nice boring neighbors who always have a smile handy, wave or say hello every time they see me and pretty much stay out of my hair for the rest of the time.

Or maybe the cats with all their ridiculous clownish ways chasing each other all over the house, hanging upside down from the ceiling, acting cute and loving one minute and clawing the flesh off my hand the next. Or how the litter box is a solid no man’s land of feline waste product  five minutes after it’s been thoroughly cleaned out.

Then there’s the automobile. There’s always something to write about those things isn’t there?

Well, I'm not a man appointed judge
To bear ill-will and hold a grudge
But I think it's time I said me a few choice words
All about that demon automobile
A metal box with the polyglass wheel
The end result to the dream of Henry Ford

(Name that tune why don’t ya’?)

Especially during the winter. Now, there’s a good old standby–the weather. I could write all sorts of sh…things about the weather and how cold it is and how much snow there is and how much I’m beginning to detest it and how long to Spring  and…and…and…

I could write about all this stuff!!

Oh…

…wait…

It seems I already did.

Never mind then.

Edit: Or I could possibly write about hitting the damn “Publish” button before I had finished making all my edits thus publishing a post “feed” full of typos…

Well, I'm not a man appointed judge
To bear ill-will and hold a grudge
But I think it's time I said me a few choice words
All about that demon automobile
A metal box with the polyglass wheel
The end result to the dream of Henry Ford

Comments

Writing something about writing something. — 9 Comments

  1. Thanks for covering all the bases here. Now I don’t have to post anything until April.

    I cheated and found your tune through Google, so I won’t spoil anybody else’s fun. (I never would have guessed it, because I never heard of it before.) But I did want to repeat these lines:

    Well now, all the cars placed end to end
    Would reach to the moon and back again
    And there’d probably be some
    Fool pull out to pass.

    .-= Larry Wallberg´s last blog ..Whenever =-.

    • Larry – I thought about cars which made me think about the song which made me think about my old band that played the song which made me think of the original which made me…

      Well, you get the idea. Nice catch though.

      Since you have all this time off now perhaps you could take a vacation?

    • Larry – My wife just ignores what I write altogether. Easier that way. And if you ever find away to take a bodily vacation, let me know how it’s done. I could use one myself.

  2. @Karen and Kate – I’m great at rambling am I not? It’s my karma, no doubt. It’s only when I try to focus my thoughts onto a single subject that I get in trouble. My mind just isn’t adapted for synchronous thinking I guess.