Imagine a vast open plain, bereft of any tall trees, thick hedges or bushes. No tall grasses or rows of rolling wild flowers. It is a wide plain with a thin layer of dust blowing over the ground. How would you fill that emptiness? Where would you start to bring some life into that open desertion?
That's how I feel this morning as I look at this long blank, blinking computer screen. I can hardly think of anything to type that will bring life to this barren whiteness. I’ve too much on my mind to concentrate adequately. I’ve got history rolling around in there, evening and weekend plans, sexual frustration, work related stress, money, humor, conscience, aches and pains all pushing each other around. They’re all vying to be the issue that gets to splash its nonsense all over this wild and untamed page.
I wrote the above paragraph about half an hour ago. I was almost instantly distracted by work. So it would seem that work related stress won the Battle of the Wild Blank Page; which is similar to May 31, 1862 when the Yankees and Rebels clashed at the Battle of Seven Pines or in 1902 when the Boer War ended. Although the casualties were much lower on this page than in those examples.
I have a wedding to attend tomorrow and I’m looking forward to it, even if I am going alone. A lot of wonderful friends will be there and we’ll all certainly have a lot of laughs and cheer. Plus there will be dancing and A Minute with Dancing Michael is so hard to resist.
I’m sure you’re all wondering about the, “sexual frustration”, issue. (Unless you’re family, in which case you’re saying, “Ew”.) Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve known the caring and soft touch of a lovely woman and that tears me up inside. A couch and a remote control is a very poor substitute for the calming comfort of an attentive and passionate and beautiful woman. Most of the time anyway.
Dang, this is a busy day. I can hardly write more than a few words without getting distracted. So I think I’ll bring this battle to a close and surrender to the tasks I have before me. I will let the troops know they fought gallantly but the day is lost. I’ll tell them that while the day may be lost, the night has yet to come, and that is when we’ll reinvigorate the fight.
A charging retreat across the blankness of this now full page, littered with the thoughts of what may be.