The writing cupboard is bare... there's nothing I can think of, so I'm going to take a break - perhaps for a few days, perhaps longer, or perhaps it'll be so soon that you'll barely notice I've been away.
Gad it's hot.
Too damned hot.
Too damned hot to think...
Unless inspiration strikes, of course...
Tum-tee-tum...
Tumbleweed drifts by on the breeze, distant church bells ring, a slightly embarrassed whistle drifts on the air and a slug speeds on by shouting out a cheery "Good morning!..."
That'll be a "no" then...
You could argue, of course, that my patterns of behaviour have become so predictable that you could write this stuff for yourselves...
After all, given the time of year, and what I'm interested in, you know that I'm going to either be writing about cricket or circumstances with my immediate family, and if neither of those things are likely to excite you in any way (and I accept that they probably don't) then it's quite possible that these flaccid rantings and ravings would hardly be missed.
Meanwhile, whilst I've brought up the topic in such a convoluted manner, circumstances conspired to ruin the buildup to the test match for me as I raved and raged and ranted about something very annoying which happened at work and felt most distracted by anxiety and frustration as those much anticipated first few bars of "Soul Limbo" blasted out of whatever broadcasting listening device I was using at that point...
Ah well, I've kind of been half following it since, but it's not really the done thing to slam in the earpieces and not say a word to those around you for vast chunks of the typical day in a collaborative environment, is it...?
Sometimes, however, as an habitual bloggist, you do just have to accept that you've got nothing to actually say, and listen to the voices in your head as they spout their words of wisdom, because we all know that there are those who believe that when you have got nothing to say, the best thing that you can do is say nothing.
I can't say that I haven't had thoughts, ideas and so forth, but not necessarily any of the kind of thoughts or ideas that add up to much other than the usual "Who's that idiot and what are they doing?" nonsense of the average day spent being a middle-aged man with a failure complex, and, not only that, but I've also been able to convince myself that whatever thoughts those actually were were really not worth sharing with anyone.
And perhaps even more strange than that is the vague feeling that I've actually forgotten how to do this. It's almost as if I've hit a kind of "blogging brick wall" and my brain no longer knows quite how to put one of these things together, or persuade me that there's a valid enough point that I could expand upon.
In fact I might go as far as to say that not only are there no valid points, but I'm not quite convinced that there are any thoughts at all that are even of interest to me. I stare at the screen, or potter through my day, and whilst I can function at my work, or involve myself in a passive way with events that interest me, there's nothing going on inside my little grey cells that could really be considered either interesting or thought-provoking.
This is why I'm churning out these rather meaningless rambles in the vain hope that just by stringing a few words together in a vaguely coherent way, perhaps a sudden thrust of insight will be triggered and we'll be able to move on from there.
Although there's precious little sign of it so far... :-(
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