Never So Empty

I don't remember ever being so utterly and completely devoid of ideas in my life.  I can't think of interesting words no matter how long I sit and stare.  I've been drawing out the reserves for too long.  The tank is empty.  There is nothing but fumes.  I need to find a filling station quickly.  First the reservoir must be replenished, then the tank.

I am like the national economy.  Overdrawn.  Neglected.  Drained.

I spent too much time last night talking about. . . I can't say, really.  Politics?  Economics?  I don't know.  Whatever it was, I couldn't find a bottom line.

If you are a baseball fan, I guess things are pretty interesting right now with long series that come down to last inning dramatics and heroics.  It is nothing you can predict.  Surprises by turns and twists, leaps and bounds.  I had a lit professor who was enamored of the game.  He called it "perfect."  People need something, and once, that was it.  The National Distraction.  I'm not knocking it.  It is necessary.  We need something to think about other than the horrors of existence.  We need to have a box to play in, a metaphorical game of skill and chance that you can read on many levels.  My professor's life had taken many bad turns, or perhaps he had.  It was a life you wanted to think about and explore. . . that is, if it wasn't yours.  He was charismatic and fascinating to the entire department if not wholly approved of.  He would have traded it, I think, for something else, but since he couldn't trade or even change it, he loved baseball.

If it weren't for the commercials, I might be able to lose myself in some game again.  But it is impossible.  My life is commercial free.  When I hear a commercial now, I feel mocked by the false tones and melodramatic cant that have come to permeate the cultural consciousness.  So televised sports are out (though soccer, I think, might still be relatively free).

Perhaps I'll find a group of poker players. That might have some legs.