In a shopping mall that is not exactly decaying and not exactly thriving, a man sits on a bench and watches people walking by, some with shopping bags and oh that’s not going anywhere.
So far, this dining room table is not doing it for inspiration. I’m going to top off the coffee cup and move to the familiar old blue chair.
Six minutes later …
The problem with the familiar old blue chair is I’m surrounded by piles of papers and books on the shelves from half-finished thoughts and projects that got postponed in mid-thought — flights that got canceled in mid-air — excavations that never uncovered the treasure left with the cranes still in place and a cache of discarded shovels.
“Those are no such thing,” someone sniffed in the corner of the cavern of my mind. “Those are receipts for dog medicine, waiting to be scanned and emailed so you can get an $11 rebate on each order.”
That would come in handy, actually — that way the net cost of the pills would go back down to what the gross cost was a year ago.
And there are my 78 rpm Christmas albums, waiting to be refiled on the shelf in the basement. Actually, several of these piles are record albums that ought to be reorganized and filed so whoever has to sort my stuff when I’m gone can see what’s here.
“‘When you’re gone,’” someone said. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”
Who knows? I could be gone tonight.
“Or you could live to be 96, like your dad, or 85, like your granddads, or 82, like your mom —”
Or 71, like two of my wives and my brother.
“Oh, you’re just being morbid now,” said the someone.
Probably. Instead of dwelling on such stuff, I should tackle one or two of these piles and put the items back somewhere in a more proper place.
“Or listen to an album, or read one of the books, or scan the silly receipts.”
That’s actually not a terrible idea.
“And yet here you sit in your familiar blue chair, writing your familiar blue thoughts and not moving into action.”
I guess I’m thinking this might work as a blog post.
“You’re setting the bar pretty low, aren’t you, considering a conversation with yourself about whether to keep doing nothing as a decent topic for a blog post? No one will read to the end.”
Maybe they’ll take it as a challenge to see if they can sift any value by reading the whole thing.
“Or maybe they’ll never bother to come back to your blog, seeing as you gave them nothing except a peek into a slacker’s self-justification for sitting in a chair watching the paint dry — except you haven’t even painted anything.”
Now who’s having familiar blue thoughts and not doing anything?
“The same guy who was doing it a couple of minutes ago — it’s a conversation with yourself, isn’t it?
Oh, yeah.
