Something I haven’t done in a while is pour myself a beer and start typing with nothing much in mind but the thought that I haven’t posted anything for over a week. Already into that difficult second sentence, I’m searching for something … anything … to say. With that admission, I discover a possible theme: the impossibility of meaningful communication.
I could leave it there, couldn’t I? Or I could wait for the alcohol to kick in. Returning readers will know that my usual solution to a lack of subject matter is to hit Random Word Generator and base an acrostic poem on whatever word pops up. That’s a crutch, really, in the face of chronic indecision. Tight limitations can stimulate me to write where wide open spaces, like these, tend to trigger agoraphobia.
So many words out there, aren’t there? Why throw any more of them into the maelstrom, I often wonder, chasing after meanings that easily outrun them? Ha, metaphor alert! The hunter returns to camp empty-handed, hoping the gatherers have had more success …
Perhaps it’s just a personal hang-up, anyway, this reluctance to say anything if it doesn’t say everything? Pouring words out of a bottle may not suit me, after all, where pouring them in works better. Still, the beer was nice!
image: JBC Online