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Thursday, May 20, 2010

I Got Nuthin'!

My brain is being held hostage by sinus pressure!  Help!  Useful thoughts appear to be hung up in my gray matter, blocked by the influx of histamines and the resultant build-up of particulates and mucosa.  Rather than seep down the back of my throat and dribble from my nostrils, the marauding mass in my head stays put, barely affected by my daily use of the Neti pot (for those not in the know, a wee teapot-looking device which delivers a saline solution to the sinuses via the nostrils -- amusing to witness the ministration), handily mimicking a small pile of bricks where my head should be.

A fairly good excuse to cover up my lack of inspiration for a subject tonight, wouldn't you agree?  "A touch of writer's block" sounds so cliche.  Allergies have been in need of a useful purpose in light of their usual antagonistic role in the human world.  They needed a champion.  Glad I could be of service. 

It gets a bit lonely out here in cyberspace.  Posting each day.  Sending hundreds of words and combinations of words into an untouchable world that so many of us still find very real and very necessary to our days and nights.  Blogging has a texture different than that of a journal or a letter.  It's all at once a writing to oneself and to a body of readers.  A blogger could develop a split-personality over the whole thing . . . or at least a splitting headache.  (I'll admit to the headache.)

Folks, today the slate is blank.  It's not that there's a lack of subject matter.  No, if anything THERE'S TOO MUCH!  I can't see the tree for the endless vista of forest before me.  Quick, somebody gimme' some stilts!  I can't see the bird for the swooping flock overhead.  Hurry, hand me the cat!  I can't see the ant for the line of  followers grabbin' that rubber tree plant.  Psst, gotta can of Raid?!

Wow!  That there is pitiful material.  I'm almost ashamed to allow it to venture forth and meet your eyes.  But, then again, there is the matter of disciplining oneself to just get it out on the page, virtual or otherwise.  It can't all be amusing and inspiring.  Every once and a while, it just IS. 

We'll just call this the crumpled piece of paper that hit the side of the trash can and bounced onto the floor. 
 

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