I have it. Or rather, I have exhaustion, right now. I have been in front of a computer for most of the day today, either working or writing, and now that it's time to blog my brain is empty.
I brainstorm ideas on how to get ideas. Go to the photo boxes, pull one out, and write a story or a memory. I try it. I don't remember anything about any of those people, because I am tired.
A thing, I'll look around at my things and write about a thing. I glance around, and see a plume. What do I have to say about a plume? Nothing, that's what.
Cooking! Does posting a recipe count as blogging? What if I tell about how I splash a little pancake batter into the egg mix for french toast? Ugh, I feel too fat to write about food, after yesterday.
Military stories! They're rolling in, I'll tell one of those. Oh, I should save them for the new website.
Free writing then. Go!
Patrick Conroy has a new book out, "The Death of Santini." Must get that. I'm out of eggs. Remember how I used to be an insomniac? No more, I sleep like a rock. I am a lucid dreamer, which can be interesting, but doesn't find me as restful. I have to keep myself it then. Black Friday: No thank you; I had one errand to run today in which I could see the BF traffic, and was relieved that my travels took me in the opposite direction.
Enough, enough. Rocksleep beckons, and I'm going to need my rest.