January 30, 2011: Blah-ugh! ideas can either fall from the sky, or crawl wretchedly from the shallow depths of one's toilet. You judge where the Muse really dwells ...
Tonight, moved to get another one of these rambling posts into the ether (or out upon the microwaves ... Whatever it is; I'm not Al Gore!), I was pleasantly surprised to get a welcome dose of that muse-manipulated magic to guide me right. For, you see, as I climbed my stairs -- literally moments before I would get to my keyboard -- my no-good son Max bellowed out that he'd fatuously dropped the toenail clipper into the toilet bowl.
Eureka! I thought. This is divine inspiration!
You see, as many new people are drawn to my Blah-ugh!, like so many mealy little European cockroaches attracted to a low-class German bakery (and I don't mean that in any derogatory way, I hope you understand), I'm compelled -- I feel it's my duty, really -- to start repeating myself in order to enlighten all the newcomers to the divine novelty of my meaningless insights and opinions. I only have so many, after all (for as I mentioned, I'm not Al Gore), but these few are important and well worth regurgitating.
So this is -- or at least would have been -- the ideal intro to talk at length about my toilet-related theories, experiences and ideas ...
But, y'know, I'm really, really hungry, and while I've explained in past Blah-ughs! how vital physical hunger can be to the creative process, there's only so much I'm willing to do to please you people. (Selfish cads!) So expect the rest of this finished soon ... or pretty soon. I just -- having paused in my prose -- mashed a large pot of potatoes, and they grow cold as I write ...
So stay tuned ... and, as always, thanks for reading!
so is Max still in the bathroom waiting for his father to come and fish the toenail clippers out of the commode?
ReplyDeleteMonsieur! Your new font, she is so impressive....
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