a post about fuck-all

if my brain were a car, today it badly needed a jump, and triple a never showed. i tried editing some video, and it was just difficult. i couldn’t get imovie to do what i thought was a simple thing. i read the fucking manual. i stared at the wall. i tried to daydream, thinking that if i wasn’t getting anything done i could at least dream up something to do in the future. i played the guitar, which was less inspired and more a question of just exercising fingers.
i read a lot of blogs and news articles. i feel no sense of retention. i was about to lapse into serious depression when i steamed a bunch of beets and then diced them, tossed them with some yellow peppers, carrot, red onion, lettuce. i made a tuna sandwich on a semifreddi seeded sourdough baguette, which i somehow managed to slice cleanly down the middle without losing control of the knife, slick with the oil from the garlic and balsamic vinagrette i made. then i watched “amelie”. a well-done movie, that only once bothered me with its romantic stylized parisian setting (right near the end i was half-expecting a pitch for a flavored instant coffee or heavily sugared non-dairy creamer with an eiffel tower on the label).
the movie actually catalyzed a few disparate thoughts i’ve been mulling in the way that a good movie can. i sat at the computer to write those thoughts down, and ended up instead describing what a struggle today has been. i really wanted to do something productive, and i am not altogether certain that i did not. i guess when i am standing at the gate of saint peter, some angel will look in the book and say “remember may third, 2005, when you did basically fuck-all?”
and then i’ll say, “yeah, and i remember that my mom left a comment on the blog objecting, as she always does, to my use of the word ‘fuck’”