This morning, ever since I got up around 5, I have attempted to write posts for my blog. I’ve started at least five but, a few paragraph in, abandoned them; I lost interest in expressing myself before I could even make a good, solid point.
The posts ranged from what I intended to be short fiction to philosophical screeds about wealth and poverty and corruption to essays about failed efforts to overhaul zoning in Austin, Texas. All of the topics interest me, but not enough to convert mental energy into mass. So I gave up. Instead, I’m writing about the fact that I can’t seem to write. What an odd way to spend, some would say waste, my time.
After I finish whatever it is I am writing here, I will go reheat my cold coffee and begin making breakfast. Fortunately, I went out to the grocery store yesterday and bought a tube of hot breakfast sausage; that’s exactly what I want for breakfast this morning. That and, perhaps, a pretend-poached egg and a glass of tomato juice. My wife just stuck her head in the door and offered that she wants to saute some mushrooms; that will go well with the rest of my morning food-plan.
Given that my wife is already heading into the kitchen, I suppose I better go, too. In a surprise development, she has been up for almost two hours, so there is some urgency to make breakfast. I could have eaten two hours ago; she is not one to wake and immediately eat, though.
Off to breakfast.
