Friday, March 27, 2009

Please, shut up.

For the past couple of days, I've found myself monumentally bored with every possible thing I might have to say in a blog-shaped utterance called a "post." Here's what happened: I went back in the archives to find out when, exactly, our Great Mouse Invasion was (I didn't find it, so whatever date I put in that last post--totally made up).

First of all, this exercise made me very glad I have kept this blog--there is a record of my days there, and things I would never remember had I not written it. Second of all, I found a lot of things to like in the writing, which is a good feeling.

At least, it's a good feeling at first, because after that, and third of all, I felt an overwhelming, existential nausea overcome me. What is all the crap I fill my days with of late? Why are there no charming little essays, manifesti, letters to inanimate objects, whatever, that come to mind? Moreover, why is my life so crowded with obligations I can't seem to remember to take care of? And avoidance--why are my hours so powerfully controlled by my urge to avoid whatever it is that's at hand, needing to be done?

I know, it's insufferable. As Robert Lowell said, "I myself am hell." Not to mention, hell on other people.

So that--this absurd state of funk, for absolutely no good reason, really--that's why I haven't blogged for a couple of days. But now: I finished a draft of the paper my colleague and I are writing. I hung up all my clothes. I turned in my travel papers to be reimbursed. I don't know, the day looks brighter.

In the meantime, I have found another possible alternative career--ghost Twitterer.


  1. If the ideas in this post were numbered so, say, the first sentence is number 1, and then the sentences that begin with words like, "first", "second", "third", are numbers 2, 3, and 4, and then the balance of paragraph two is 5, and finally the sentences of the paragraph that begins, "I know", is 6, well, if everything in this post is numbered like that, and my comments are numbered to match my feelings about my own blog in relation to your numbered ideas, well then, my comments would have been simply:

    1. Me too.
    2. Me too.
    3. Me too.
    4. Me too.
    5. Me too.
    6. Me too.

    But remember, those are my feelings about my blog, and only my feelings about your blog as it relates to 1 and 2 of this post. I love the record of your life that is your blog. And I love the good writing.

    And dang, I think I may have just done math.

  2. Your posts are the highlight of my day. Seriously. So please carry on.

  3. I love the feeling of looking back at old blog posts and revisiting poems I had forgot I had written. Phrases like "Oh yeah" and "I'm the shiz" come to mind.

  4. sorry. "Da shiz".

  5. I too am feeling funky--not in the good way either. Maybe spring is harder than we think--it's so wishy-washy, so full of hope and disappointment, so tragicomic--it reminds us of us too much.

  6. Ditto. All of it.
    Yes, the spring funk. Yes, the not-doing funk.
    But the sun is shining. So we got that goin' for us.

  7. Ghost twitterers. I think that's officially "Ghost tweeps." Arianna Huffington is not hiring. Oprah is. But Arianna is embarking on a new journalism project, could be a job there. Ashton is not hiring ghosts. Neither is the Mrs. My current ambition is to sell a late night joke to Dave Letterman. Do that, and my life is complete.



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