What am I doing? Why have I been wasting everyone's time by posting one word, a handful of words, nothing useful or interesting?
I suppose I could blame my underindulgnce on my inferior eyegaze issue, an excuse, a poor one evidenced by the existence of this very post, denying a problem insurmountable. On the other hand, it might be that so much effort goes into lining up the letters and spelling the words that content rides in the trunk while my baggage takes a back seat in order for me to maintain my practical sanity. I can write nonsense such as this all day long (and often do), but nonsense is a cop out. I used to write about my ALS (ad nauseum), about my youth, about my apprehensions and, to a small degree, my aspirations, even on occasion my fantasies. Now my aspirations have devolved into fantasy. I must never forget what I could do before the disease lest I lose my dreams, where my abilities are intact, and my waking imaginings, where I can walk and talk as I did in my former life.
So I falter and stumble and crack my head on a coffee table in my mind, hopeful of a trauma that cures me. I've tried wracking my brain to no avail. Meanwhile, you must navigate the flotilla of crap that percolates from the bowels of this blog.
I suppose I could blame my underindulgnce on my inferior eyegaze issue, an excuse, a poor one evidenced by the existence of this very post, denying a problem insurmountable. On the other hand, it might be that so much effort goes into lining up the letters and spelling the words that content rides in the trunk while my baggage takes a back seat in order for me to maintain my practical sanity. I can write nonsense such as this all day long (and often do), but nonsense is a cop out. I used to write about my ALS (ad nauseum), about my youth, about my apprehensions and, to a small degree, my aspirations, even on occasion my fantasies. Now my aspirations have devolved into fantasy. I must never forget what I could do before the disease lest I lose my dreams, where my abilities are intact, and my waking imaginings, where I can walk and talk as I did in my former life.
So I falter and stumble and crack my head on a coffee table in my mind, hopeful of a trauma that cures me. I've tried wracking my brain to no avail. Meanwhile, you must navigate the flotilla of crap that percolates from the bowels of this blog.
Isn't getting whacked in the had what causes diseases and injuries? Stop banging your head against that brick wall and deconstruct it so that you can re create something beautiful and useful we can all enjoy.
ReplyDeleteI've never been whacked in the had
ReplyDeleteHow about setting your eyes on a story from your youth. Throw some Huck Finn in there as well. Haha I love the stories from your childhood. And Amy is right, create something beautiful. We love hearing from you.
ReplyDeleteI am beginning to realize that hyperbole has its limitations
ReplyDelete