It is way too late to do the coffee thing, and much too early to turn on the idiot box because they’re still hawking lotions, potions, and miracles in small bottles. I can’t write as I am at a loss for the right words, and an entire paragraph is all but impossible. If I create anything today, it will reflect the madness, a few jumbled sentences that won’t make sense to anyone including myself.
I can’t be bipolar, because that involves uncontrolled laughter and right about now I could not even buy a smile. However, the plastic keys on my machine are becoming soggy, so I must be halfway there. Maybe it was the Saint Jude’s commercial, followed by emaciated puppies on the A.S.P.C.A. pitch. I hit the daily double of infomercial tearjerkers. Maybe “My Sister’s Keeper” will be on next. It will be like hitting the trifecta. Cold I have become, but children and animals are another thing altogether.
I ponder my day, the sick children, the abused animals, and come to the grim realization I have more past than future. So instead of trying to create anything, I stare at the countless cigarette butts floating in the steel toilet. They drift counter clockwise, and in China, it’s flow goes in the other direction. I realize the story I am trying to convey is the cause of it. Even though I am not actually creating it as it’s still unfolding in real time. Glancing to the T.V. screen, the children are still bald and sterile. I opt to put my ear buds in instead just as the radio plays “Wake Me Up” by Everessance. You gotta be kidding me.