It can be a peculiar thing to be
a writer. Writers love words, use words,
neeeeed words to generate a pause for thought, a soft laugh or something along
those lines to pass along and convey whatever is on the writer’s radar-mindset
and clearly needs to be shared with anyone willing to read along – or better
yet ‘play along’.
But what happens when the words
won’t come?
Where are those lettered
combinations of language that effectively express the matter of the moment?
Do words have that much power?
Can they vaporize out of sight or thought?
Those who know me know I am a
social bug with verbal skills that could exhaust an ENtire army. As a result, writing becomes an extension of
my neeeeeeed to express myself. So how
is it that on this Friday in late June, all my words are missing?
They’ve picked themselves up and
left the Dirt Road.
*POOF*
First, let’s remove the fodder
words: “Hello” is a fodder word. The
phone rings and upon answering I say, “Hello”.
“Hello” doesn’t count and is exempt from the missing mass of words that
have left my universe today.
More fodder words: “How are you?”
“Fine, and you?” “Fine.”
I repeat: Fodder.
Then there’s the weather. Even more fodder. Do you really want a Dirt Road Weather Report? I can provide you with a concise weather
report that includes my all access to online satellite imagery direct from the
National Weather Service (impressive – huh?).
It rained
yesterday afternoon. Today it’s
hot. It’s humid. No, it’s MUGGY. The sky is blue with white fluffy clouds
slurring around thinking about merging this afternoon in order to rain right
about the time I decide to go outside to accomplish something like cleaning boogers
out of Buttermilk’s nose. The satellite imagery
shows that it’s a NO BEACH day along the panhandle of Florida
and Mississippi and Alabama are under siege by a huge blue and
red blob that has settled on top of them.
That very same blob should show up over here in a couple of days, unless
it breaks up or the wind moves it north/northeast. Cuba doesn't have a dry spot to stand in. Tomorrow will be a repeat of today.
There. Fodder.
No real words – no words of passion or persuasion or thought
provoking moments of wonder. Fodder.
*POOF*
(sigh)
I repeat: It’s Friday and that’s all I got.
HKJ
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