This is a post about nothing at all.
The weather was foul and the best thing, it seemed was to stay at home and do nothing and sit in front of the fire. Well, almost nothing: did our taxes — usually I’m cursing at receipts on the evening of April 30th, tax day in Canada — and was very pleasantly surprised at my refund, Mister Man’s was somewhat less. Done and filed.
We’re down to one laptop — don’t ask — and Mister Man needed the computer after I was done the taxes.
“You writing anything today?”
Actually I was lying. I didn’t want to think about nursing, or the emergency department, or about being depressed, or anything else for that matter.
I did something I rarely do. I turned on the television. Brain bubblegum!
So instead I watched — for the first time! — the appallingly bad Star Wars prequel, The Attack of the Clones, and reflected grimly on the corrosive effect of money and arrogance on art in general and motion pictures in particular. For film which had a budget of $120 million, it boggles the mind Hayden Christensen was so awful.
“Any ideas yet?” he asked after a while. He gave back the laptop.
Nothing set on the hard drive yet, except as sketches: a couple of anecdotes from last week, waiting for a wry Muse to add her commentary; a skeleton of a poem, the notion of a haiku which had been simmering for a few days. A dry day, it seems. They happen.
I’ve been reflecting on the comments to my post The Black Dog, and am very grateful for the kind comments and advice and touched by the support. Some days, as they say, are better than others. Friday was exceptionally good. Yesterday, well, let’s forget yesterday.
“How’s it going. . .?”
Maybe pizza for dinner? Episode III : Revenge of the Sith, is coming on next. . . can you put more wood on the fire, love?