Saturday, August 6, 2011

Dog day afternoons

How can you tell I have writer's block?

Simple: I post other people's poetry on The Impractical Catholic instead of writing something myself. (But, hey, at least it was T. S. Eliot; I would have really deserved your rotten tomatoes if I'd posted any of Jewel Kilcher's stuff.

During the summer, it seems everything wilts from the heat. Even the doomsday claims that have arisen in the wake of the debt-ceiling deal and the downgrading of the government's credit rating seem perfunctory: "Okay, we've made the necessary noises. Now let's go take a nap someplace air-conditioned."

In the afternoons, Bob (my invalid younger brother whom I take care of) usually takes a nap. This normally affords me three or four hours in which to compose my thoughts without fear of interruption. The last couple of days, though, a couple of those hours have been spent idly surfing the web for sources to je ne sais quoi, followed by an indefinite period of unconsciousness in my naugahyde captain's chair, as the day's heat finally sinks through the valiant efforts of AC and ceiling fan to entice me into the arms of Morpheus.

Not good for productivity.

So here's my apology and my assurance that I will eventually think of something to write ....