And so it goes...

Laptop in lap, window into the world, regurgitated gripes, all made to fit into earmarked time. How does it work? The TV waits patiently, while I agonize over the ideas weighing heavy on my keyboard. The TV blathers on at my brain. It bickers and screams and chatters and gushes with inanities, flooding the parched crevices of my mind.

Can I be unearthed? Am I really down there? If I'm not, then where am I? They say it's not all about me, but I am the only one I am. Still, let's say it's not about me, what would I do with myself then? Can't really get rid of me, can I? And if it's not about me, then about whom?

Headphones to the rescue. The TV will stay out, but the music will drape the pregnant silence. World music. As opposed to Mars music? Hmmmm... That may very well be the ticket. Head into space. The space between me and the world.

[writing | creativity | muse]