Marc
Indianapolis, IN
I've given up on the USA. Forgive me.
I know we've had this conversation before, quite a long time ago, about blog-chips implanted in the heads of all of us. Let's face it, we're fanatics. We want to be heard, and we're not being heard enough in our own lives so we all turn to these damn pages and SCREAM ... but quietly. The only thing everybody else around us hears is the click-clicking and pattering of our little fingers on our little keys. And sometimes people that we don't know are kind enough to stop by our little homes for our incessant, crazy, idiosyncratic ramblings, and we all have trackers so we know they were here, and we're all happier for it. Right on, I say. Let's keep the party rolling.
But, I lose so many good posts from day to day. Why? Because I'm too busy doing some mindless, boring, mundane routine of a job, or laundry and I can't go anywhere, or something else. It doesn't matter really. I had a thing about the nighttime sky tonight, on the way between Springfield and Danville, and the open fields, and the blue fading into white fading into soft shades of pink. And it was all laid out right there in my head, and all I needed was two hands free to type it out and some kind of mobile connection to put it up, and hopefully it would make your days just a bit better, but guess what? It's gone. It's dried up and gone away because that was two hours ago, and now all I can think about is that floor for the sit-ups, and the shower afterwards, and the book I'm going to try and read, and yadda yadda ... blah.
Now I'm just staring at this cracked laptop screen, and thinking about people that are nowhere near where I'm at right now, and how I wish I could be them and moving on and moving out, but it's not the time, and this isn't the place for me to worry about it all. I shouldn't be worried about it, but I am. Zach's got my number - I'm a sorry sack of worrying crap, and all I do is hope that the next day is going to be a bit better than the previous day.
Oh, I give up. Night.
Indianapolis, IN
I've given up on the USA. Forgive me.
I know we've had this conversation before, quite a long time ago, about blog-chips implanted in the heads of all of us. Let's face it, we're fanatics. We want to be heard, and we're not being heard enough in our own lives so we all turn to these damn pages and SCREAM ... but quietly. The only thing everybody else around us hears is the click-clicking and pattering of our little fingers on our little keys. And sometimes people that we don't know are kind enough to stop by our little homes for our incessant, crazy, idiosyncratic ramblings, and we all have trackers so we know they were here, and we're all happier for it. Right on, I say. Let's keep the party rolling.
But, I lose so many good posts from day to day. Why? Because I'm too busy doing some mindless, boring, mundane routine of a job, or laundry and I can't go anywhere, or something else. It doesn't matter really. I had a thing about the nighttime sky tonight, on the way between Springfield and Danville, and the open fields, and the blue fading into white fading into soft shades of pink. And it was all laid out right there in my head, and all I needed was two hands free to type it out and some kind of mobile connection to put it up, and hopefully it would make your days just a bit better, but guess what? It's gone. It's dried up and gone away because that was two hours ago, and now all I can think about is that floor for the sit-ups, and the shower afterwards, and the book I'm going to try and read, and yadda yadda ... blah.
Now I'm just staring at this cracked laptop screen, and thinking about people that are nowhere near where I'm at right now, and how I wish I could be them and moving on and moving out, but it's not the time, and this isn't the place for me to worry about it all. I shouldn't be worried about it, but I am. Zach's got my number - I'm a sorry sack of worrying crap, and all I do is hope that the next day is going to be a bit better than the previous day.
Oh, I give up. Night.
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