Prompt Images
As another year passes, my mind today feels like a barren winter field.
Our creative minds are like fertile soil. New thoughts are like seeds. Over time, sunlight, water, and a lot of patience ultimately yield the original ideas that we hope will nourish others. But after a really big harvest, our minds need new seeds. Mental soil must be cultivated.
Ideas, like crops, need loving care, and time.
I look back on a few of my pieces this year with pride. Some particularly promising seeds took root, and their fruits still nourish. But there were others that only filled the stomach with empty calories. And just as many initially promising ideas simply withered and died on the vine. Overall, I’d characterize my “writer’s farm” as still earnestly in business and looking forward to another year of trying like hell to say something that might inspire myself or someone else.
Unfortunately, today isn’t one of those days.
What to write… what to write? Something smart or funny or snarky or maybe pithy? What half-baked ideas do I have laying around? Welcome to my inner world. I’m sorry for the clutter, but you know what they say about a beautiful mind, right? Let me move a few of these piles so you can find a place to sit. And please try not to judge while I look for something meaningful in this disorganized mess.
Sports
What’s happening here in this reliable go-to? Half the NFL is at .500, but somehow my team’s been mathematically eliminated from the playoffs through 2027. Local Patriots fans are all on suicide watch. Some paisano kid who lives with his parents infrom the Jersey is now a high-ranking capo for the New York Giants. Another college football recruiting season, and this year’s top teams grabbed up all the most talented kids, pretty much guaranteeing the same teams will again play in next year’s championship. I hear the NCAA’s looking at letting Division I teams just draft the high school kids, with the least successful teams going first. Will sure be fun to see what the Akron Zips or the Kent State Golden Flashes can do with a few 4 and 5-star recruits. I also think they should finally eliminate the “college” piece of college football, the ridiculous pretense of schoolwork distracting from the business of maintaining a squad’s elite field performance (bestowing honorary degrees in phys-ed for any “graduate” seems fair enough).
Eehhhhh… Nothing good here. FOCUS!
Politics
Oh yes… always a colorful, non-polarizing grab bag of things. Let’s see. Our buddy George (Anthony) Santos (Devolver) sure got the last laugh, huh? The guy runs a con worthy of Anna Delvey, gets elected to Congress, gets exposed, then gets (legally) rich off the whole thing. Well played, whatever your name is. Half our country wants to continue our nearly 250-year tradition of being led by a democratically elected narcissist salesman. The other half is pushing for a fascist strongman to be their retribution for being too-long ignored. In Donald Trump, we get the best of both. I say we re-elect him and stop trying so hard to stave off society’s inevitable gasoline torching. Fascism’s back in fashion, and that should help us improve relations with Russia, North Korea, and China. And aren’t election cycles exhausting with all the hyperbolic, non-stop ads? The thought of not having them anymore seems almost calming. And can someone actually run the entire free world from a maximum security federal prison cell? What happens next? Not sure, but we’re packing a go-bag this fall just in case.
Nothing terribly original here… think harder!
Memoir
Okay, let’s get personal! I turn 58 today. I’m at an age where, other than the actuarial cost of insuring me going exponentially up, this means very little. To borrow from an ultramarathoning metaphor, if you’re running an 80-mile race, don’t expect much fanfare at the 58-mile marker. I know far more now than I ever did, but I understand way less. I’ve seen contrasted images of every part of my body. I’ve met literally thousands and thousands of people in my life but can count my real friends on one hand (with room in my fist to spare). A long time ago I started evaluating my friendships like one might size up a retirement investment. How much am I investing and what sort of return am I getting? When the returns were low for too long, I cut my losses and moved my emotional money. I think for too long I sunk a lot of good money after bad, hoping to one day rely on those relationships to feed me vitally in my later years. Unfortunately as life rolled on, I’ve found those opportunities increasingly elusive.
Seriously… this is sappy. And who cares? You’ve done this bit before.
All right, all right. I’ve rummaged through the entire mental inbox here and, sad to say, there aren’t any real winners. Maybe I should just mindlessly crank something out, perhaps I pull out a pretty decent piece from years past that nobody read or simply forgot about? Does that break our contract, you and me?…
Okay… I think I might be finally getting to some kind of point. And it feels like this:
Sometimes my very best thoughts don’t seem worthy of sharing with anyone. This just might be a very roundabout definition of the dreaded writer’s block.
When the ideas are flowing, it’s all so easy. When they’re not, sometimes the activity of putting anything on the page forces the process forward such that keen insight intensifies, and really good words string together. Original thought takes shape. Sometimes not.
Now that you’ve seen my kitchen, please don’t call the health department. I promise to clean things up around here as the new year begins. I promise to use only fresh ingredients and ensure the meals are fully cooked, free of disease, and easy to digest. If you keep coming, I promise to read plenty and serve up fresh new ideas and never bring the plate to your table until it’s prepared just right. I mean, this isn’t Chipotle, after all. I don’t want any lawsuits.
I hope everyone had a great holiday. Now if you’ll excuse me while I clean this place up, restock the pantry, and give the staff some time off.
RELATED
