Put a Fork in Me
By Cecilio's Scribe on Aug 10, 2009 with Comments 0
…’cause I be done. OK, not really, but my battle back is going to be harder than I thought. Reminds me of these wrethced days. The words aren’t flowing. Ideas aren’t coming. And “real” work isn’t slowing down, it’s only accelerating. I supposed I shouldn’t lament about the last of that series, but it certainly leaves a bit less creative “downtime” to lose myself and espouse things on el blog.
Nope, the tank runneth very near empty. The Mets are down 3-0 early. Jets regular season action is still over a month away, and I couldn’t give a flying you-know-what about soccer. Instead, I sit and throw down dinner at 10 at night and suffer through my wife ogling Tom Brady in a DVR’d episode of another (crappy) Entourage.
Oh yes, I still feel like dog crap to top things off. Luckily, wifey-poo has not made me feel any less significant by pausing and rewinding the various Brady-related scenes to offer keen analysis on his sharp khakis and flawless hair. She chimes in that her fawning is somehow even more “admirable,” because she bleeds G-Men blue. Just gag me already.
In the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson:
Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense.
Deep sh*!, right?
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