Nothing Pithy to Say

Something inspired me to go read the first month of the first year when I began writing this blog. Boy, was I much more cheerful then. Was I deluded? Or was I really that cheerful? I don’t think I’ve been that cheerful in a really long time. I had book ideas popping out of my head. My writing was pithy. I was fired up about stuff that pissed me off and I could write long pieces about it without getting lost in all the rabbit holes I get lost in these days when I try to write about what is wrong in the world. I didn’t exercise daily like I do now. I ate sugar. I hadn’t been through therapy that actually worked and made me deal with my childhood shit. But I was more cheerful and pithy.

I remember writing then, how I would get lost in it. Maybe it was because I had finally found a forum for all the nonsense that floats around in my brain. Maybe it was because I hadn’t yet been metaphorically knocked down, kicked in the belly, kicked in the head, and left to lie there. Or I had been kicked, but not knocked down and had the shit beaten out of me yet, and it hadn’t really sunk in. (Funny how sentences go. I started to write that it hadn’t yet kicked in, but then thought that was kind of a twisty metaphor considering I was describing being knocked down and kicked, so then I tried hit. It didn’t work either in the same way. I finally settled on sunk in. And then I wrote this. I must admit I’m still good at rambling nonsense that gets off the main track. (Oh, and I’m still the Queen of Parentheses.))

I feel like I need a nap and it’s not even 10 a.m. yet. Yikes.

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