You know the feeling.
Every muscle freezes rigid, eyes and limbs frozen in place, willing time into reverse or at least to hold as still as you. If you don’t blink perhaps the angels won’t reveal themselves as demons.
Heart and lungs drum and roll to a cacophony of off-beat jazz rhythms lacking a predictable melody.
The moment whizzes by like a deadline but its breath hangs in the air, all sour grapes and rotten luck and fermented failure.
You may sniff, at the stench of your own ineptitude, resplendent in your baffling idiocy. Or perhaps it’s an attempt to keep in all the vitriol that threatens to sink you, like a sailor stranded in a row boat hacking at the bottom of his own vessel.
You sleep, perchance to dream of a time before disaster. But cruelly and inevitably you wake to a hell of your own making. Like Sisyphus you force your hopes uphill, only to watch them tumble down again in a shower of what ifs.
Yeah… So I spilled beer on my computer.
I am hamstrung and heartbroken and I would offer myself up to SkyNet if only it would let me back into its world.
It’s so cruel that I write the most and most easily when drinking but now the drink has made this almost impossible. Do you know how hard it is to do this on a phone with these chubby thumbs?! Auto correct helps, and that’s saying something!
I pour out my plight to you only so that you know why things are quiet in this little corner of the interwebs.
Feel free to send love and money and unwanted devices my way!