Blank Page

Yup. blank page.

I don’t often see that. I open either of my writing programs and I’ve got so much scheduled to write…

So I open my blogging program and…

Blank page.

Staring at me.



Take an index card and clean cat hair out from under my keyboard. Huh. Little bits of brown peanut skin under there too. Inspect the edge of the card.

It’s getting frayed. Better stop.

Blank page.

I haven’t cracked my knuckles yet. Take care of that.

There must be an obscure sea shanty I could whistle to myself right now. Except I have a limited whistling range of about 5 notes, and the rest comes out as puffs of air at a musical pitch.

Blank page, waiting patiently.

Hm. Let’s see. I had a Ford Mustang, a Pinto, a Honda Semi-automatic (no kidding! a Civic with a choke but no clutch), a Toyota of some kind, a Mazda… what was the station wagon?

Blank page, staring accusingly.

“You don’t have any ideas today, do you?”


“Come back tomorrow.”


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