I feel like my brain is on strike. It could be because my kid is in the living room watching yet another episode of Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew. Or the four thousand episodes of Lost that have been playing nonstop every evening in this house for the past three weeks.
Me: “Hey, brain, what’s up, dog? Let’s get some deep thinking on, man. Let’s talk about the cosmos and shit.”
Me: “Dude, wtf? Come on, let’s go read us some Daniel Dennett. Let’s read some John McPhee. Let’s fuckin’ read us some Cormac.”
Brain: “nnnnnnuuuhhhnnnuuuhhhnnn…LOST……………….duuuuuuuuuhhhhh……i didn’t come here to make friends…….island sinking, future self killed my past self………who is John Locke really?”
Me: “Fuck it, dude. I’m going for a walk.”
What is it about those long walks in the woods, or on the beach? Outside. Get outside and everything seems about twenty percent better right off the bat. No matter what’s wrong.
I got all these things to say about it, but my brain is still hiding behind her dressing screen, her slip draped over the top, singing to herself and studiously ignoring me.
Looks like you’ll have to go elsewhere for today’s deep thoughts.
I like pudding!!!