So it’s 11 p.m. last night, and my most recent journal entries are not ready for prime time, and the one blog post I do have ready is all about the new Patreon page I have not finished building. What can I do except set my fingers loose to compose my Wednesday blog post freestyle in the waning minutes of Tuesday?
The baseball All-Star Game ran late, so of course what my DVR thought was “Jeopardy!” was in fact the end of the post-game show and the beginning of the 10:00 news, which actually started at 10:51 — so I may as well type away and start recording my game show manually when it finally arrives around 11:21.
Such is the life of a daily blogger who isn’t disciplined enough to work days or weeks in advance and must often conjure an entry on the fly just shy of the deadline. It’s not a major problem; I’ve been chasing deadlines for lo, these 48 years now, so deadlines and me, we’re old pals.
I have been obsessed of late with the subject of peace and its sister, the subject of the utter absurdity of war. I believe that people want to be left alone, want to live in peace, and generally have no quarrel with their neighbors as long as those first two conditions are met. Maybe I’m wrong — maybe average people want to have someone else run their lives, and maybe they can’t wait to punch their neighbors in the nose or shoot them dead. But I kind of think I’m right.
Still, every day wars are waged, fist fights break out, and sociopaths get elected to meddle in all our lives. How does this happen?
I suppose it’s because other people let us down. For example, instead of running “Jeopardy!” late after the late 10:00 news, at 11:21 p.m. my local station joined its regular scheduled rerun of “The King of Queens” in progress and blew off today’s “Jeopardy!” episode altogether. Some people less civilized than I might decide to drive down to the television station and punch somebody in the nose.
Me, I’m going to turn off the TV, post this post, and get a late start on my beauty sleep. Peace and love, baby. Peace and love.