It’s one thing to be awake in the wee hours of the morning, inside the house. It’s quite another to venture into the darkness outside the door, where all manner of wild beasts may be prowling about; raccoons, skunks, foxes, armadillos, and other creatures too odd to imagine, even for one so thoroughly awake as I.
Yet that’s what I am about to do. I haven’t had much time to think this morning, having arisen at 3:20. My best thinking does not take place in the shower, so I did not get my mind going while washing my body. Shaving takes too much concentration to allow for thought, else I might slit my own throat. So I didn’t think much about what I would write. Yet here I am, on a keyboard, wondering whether wisdom, or even trivial blather, will escape my brain and flow through my fingers to the computer keyboard. It appears that will not happen doesn’t it?
Why, when the opportunity is ripe for flashes of brilliance, does the mind fail to provide those flashes? If I knew, I’d write the reasons right here. But I do not know. I am at a loss for words. My thoughts are mushy and soft and easily diluted with thoughts of coffee and congee, neither of which have graced me with their presence. Wait! I wrote, just a few minutes ago, of breakfast in the wee hours, something I have withheld from myself thus far today. So, what might that tell me? Coffee! I could make coffee! And I believe I will!
And then I will ponder what words might escape my brain the next time I visit a willing keyboard.
