I'm detecting a theme here.... because today, I swear they emptied out the looney bin and turned them loose on the roadways. Did all of you just learn to drive? Why can't the idiots with their blinkers on for six miles hook up with the idiots who have no idea why they might ever need a turn signal so that MAYBE their offspring could figure out how to use that little stick thingy poking out of the steering column! Sweet Mary, Mother of God, how hard can it be? Let's do 90 in the slow lane or maybe 45 in the fast lane of a 70mph interstate - it seems to be the latest fad. And for the record, yes, that was me who almost missed the exit at Nolensville Pike this afternoon, but nobody was behind me and I didn't cut anybody off when I sailed across the zebra stripes because my brain apparently thought I should be going to Knoxville instead of picking up my kid after school. Mea Culpa.
Here I stand again, speaking to an empty room. My thoughts aren't worth the cyberspace they would take up if I cared to tweet or post to Facebook, but here I stand anyway. I had no idea how long it had been since my muse had forced me to write. I used to write almost daily, poetry mostly, when I was younger and believed that someone cared what I had to say. I wanted to be e.e. cummings or T.S. Eliot or anyone who seemed to be so comfortable in his own skin to pour out his emotions onto a blank page. It took me a few years to realize that the writers who filled my pantheon of literary deities were not that comfortable after all, but wrote because not writing was more painful than the spilling of emotion. So I think I will take up my keyboard once more, wade out into the battle, and write.
Comments