Monday, June 13, 2005

I would like to tell you where our Friday discussion went, really I would, but I don’t think you care. Any excuse just wouldn’t wash, you know? It’d give your bottle of Snuggle a sidelong glance and kinda evaporate it. I will tell you, however, a sharp mixture of guilt and verbosity seized me over the weekend, gnawed me raw, and in the end my hands were inexplicably drawn to anything resembling a keyboard, simply because I wanted to talk with you.

It got bad, proper bad, let me tell you. We’re talking anything that had buttons, maybe even a single button, I’d look at it and give it the green light. I mean, there I was at the supermarket, thinking my own thoughts and preparing to type my masterwork, when the cashier suddenly flew off the handle.

She was all like, “Man, get the hell away from the register!”

She smacked my hand.

“But this sharp mixture of guilt and verbosity!” I protested. “It is seizing me.”

Then she pointed to the door.

It’s become increasingly clear to me that the best way to recharge, the moment you hit a dry spell of ideas, is to stop, breathe calmly, and relish the thoughts of others. This was implied, I imagine, when I linked to Achewood, a much read comic I only recently discovered. What I found compelling was the art, sparse and stylish, and also the wit. One look at the archives and you’ll note the stamina as well. It’s the perfect complement to the other love. My favorite panel:

“So, down and quickly left?”

There was some of that, a little of The New Yorker, bits of Northwestern magazine, a publication that continues to show up in my mailbox without any prompting, and also some Sherlock. Of course good weather has a say in the matter, and walks are essential, but much of my indoor time was monopolized by this gem of a game. While it may not cater to your eyes any longer, it still lays out a sumptuous spread for your ears. I know mine were wiping their lips repeatedly.

And here we are, new and refreshed and ready to talk about the world in its entirety. I remember there was a point, I’m thinking early 2004 and thereabouts, where it was acceptable to ignore you for days on end. That shameful negligence gave way to workmanlike repetition and, lately, absolute necessity. You’re like premium unleaded to me. We’re not through yet.