Sometimes you want to write something really profound or interesting, but there just isn’t anything to say. I’m in the mood right now to write a really good essay, or make a commentary on some important social or religious topic, but I’m just all worded out. I don’t have the energy to come up with anything emotionally engaging.
I could sit here and feel sorry for myself, but I’ve already done plenty of that.
I could lament over my struggles with drinking, but that’s a tired old subject.
I could talk about dirty, dirty sex and female anatomy, but then one of my in-laws might read it.
I could do one of my daily updates, but let’s face it, does anyone really want another one of those right now? There’s only so many times you can give your weight, a Rush lyric quote, and an update on your daughter’s bowel habits.
I could talk about this dark spot on the inside of my cheek that I think might be a blood blister of some type, but could possibly be an aggressive oral cancer that will soon spread to my brain, but I don’t feel like getting all worked up.
I could give random descriptions of my surroundings, but that would just be stupid.
I could do a Today in History but this ain’t The History Channel and I ain’t in the mood.
Aw shit. I’m not even in the mood to do anymore “I coulds.” I’m tired of thinking about what I could do.
I just wrote the phrase “I need to fart” at the end of that last sentence, but I took it out because I decided it was gross and embarrassing.
Okay, I’ll stop writing now and let you off the hook. I think I’ll go into the bathroom and look at this oral cancer in my mouth again and contemplate how many months I’ve got.