A Moment of Silence

I have not been a good Internet friend recently.  Two nights in a row, now, I have sat here with a blank screen staring me in the face, looking in vain for inspiration to start typing.  Nothing happened.  I think the problem is at least partly related to the fact that I want to write quite a bit about my fishing trip, but I haven’t had the available block of time it’s going to take to mash out a couple of no doubt lengthy entries about my angling adventures;  unable to write about my preferred subject, my mind is rebelling and refusing to be distracted from its intended authorial purpose.  In this way, I am the literary equivalent of a two-year old child having a screaming fit because somebody switched off the cartoons.  Anyway, fear not, I have not abandoned the blog except temporarily;  I will write something tomorrow about the fishing trip and no longer will there be any excuse for failure to tippy-tap.

Worse than my failure to blather here, though, is my inability to find anything to say that I feel is worthwhile while reading the work of others.   Mike is a wonder of consistency;  every day, without fail, he finds some reflection or insight worth setting out on his site.  I have been continuing to read about his exploits, but for the most part, haven’t even felt the sparkle of inspiration to even come up with a worthwhile comment.

Dog days of summer indeed.

Categorized as HiR:tb

By junior

Guitar owner and silly person.

1 comment

  1. Let it first be noted that I probably write too much, not at length necessarily, but about random crap floating around my head (that lake appears to contain complaints, photography, and work, in that rough order). My secret weapon is that I kept a daily journal for just over ten years — 1989 to 1999 — not quite achieving the logorrhoea of Rev. Shields, but enough to notice the same phrases and patterns used to pad out one notebook page per day.

    Nah. It’ll come. As Frankie advises, “Relax …”

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