Day 119: I’d Rather Write In The Morning [Friday Thought W/ TeeCoZee]
Good Moleman. Bart, you want a brownie before you go to bed? I pickled the figs myself. It’s Friday, January 15th, Twanty-Too-Won. The weather in Brooklyn is 45° & Pantone 19-4008 and somewhere, somebody is trying to find an insult that slaps. And they need to do it now, so they can have the last laugh. The days of calling people dummy and egghead are over. The situation doesn’t call for fuckwad or jerk store. That seems a little extreme. It needs to be the right amount of diss while still being playful. Maybe dingbat or boat sinker. Yeah, boat sinker. That kind of slaps. Suddenly, their thoughts are interrupted by a voice. “You’ve got nothing else to say, bing bong?” That’s it! Bing bong! Perfect! They shall call them bing bong! And me? I also feel like the slappiest insults are the ones that were just said. Wait, no I don’t. Whatever. I have a thing on my mind.
– I know, I know. It’s late. You’re probably waiting to go to bed, Mom. I’m sorry. It just didn’t work out today. I woke up with only 32 minutes to write. That’s totally not enough time, especially when I have a new video game to play for 33 minutes and then officially be running late. Cut me some slack. I have priorities.
Then I told myself that I would write while stuck in traffic and probably write about being stuck in traffic. But there was no traffic. Also, I shouldn’t write and drive because it looks too much like texting. If I got pulled over for texting, I probably wouldn’t be able to convince the cop that I was blogging. It looks way too much like texting. I’d be guilty as charged.
I was going to write when I got to the new apartment, but I messed up my hand. I was folding the backseat down but my darn hand kept going as it slammed into the front seat. 3 fingers on my right hand got jammed. I could barely hold a box, writing on a phone was out of the question. If I were to try, I’d risk injuring my hand further. I swear it happened to me in the 7th grade. I know what I’m talking about.
Later on, I thought I was healthy enough to write, but I was helping out with building some furniture. I really shouldn’t try to write while assisting someone with furniture. I’d get flustered trying to juggle my phone and a small bag of screws and end up doing something weirdly destructive to both of them. You can’t fault me for wanting to be an attentive furniture-building assistant. I’m not even that good at either things, doing them both at the same time would be suicide. Yeesh.
And here we are. It’s well past 10:00 and I still have nothing written. The day is over and it drained me mightily. I truly have nothing left in the tank. So the streak ends here, I guess. Considering the circumstances, there’s no way anything is going to get written today. But I’m better than that, kind of. Maybe I can try.
Here goes nothing.
Try this trick over the weekend: Tell someone you’re not going to do something while actually doing it. That’s some next level mind fuckery.
Have a bare minimum weekend, everybody!