it's early morning.
the sky is november gray.
there is a cold drizzle darkening the patio slate.
a fresh pot of mild columbian roast caffeinates the kitchen air i breathe.
chamber strings sulk quietly, occasionally interrupted by a crack from the log fire.
i am so ready to write today.
ah, to be one with microsoft word.
at peace with my laptop.
but what will it be?
a love sonnet perhaps?
the next twainian short story for my "still living in the sixties" collection?
maybe an essay on nature's wondrous moods?
hmm ... a blog post?
a blog post it will be.
but not just any blog post!
one that will catch oprah's attention for sure.
already i can hear my snappy one liners moving her audience to near laugh riot.
by the end, she offers me her job in surrender to my greatness.
but i refuse because i am still humble.
a five hour standing ovation ensues.
yes, i see it all.
but let me not get ahead of myself.
first i need a subject.
what can i write about?
empty the head (no difficulty there).
let it just come to me.
quiet the mind.
let it happen—
"tin shoe cannoli"
huh? what the f@*k!
well, that certainly was a fine writer's paradise ruined.
apparently my empty head has debris strewn about like a new jersey county fair.