April 9: Brain Dead

I'm feeling pretty brain dead at the moment.  It's around 7:30 p.m., and I'm sitting in my office at the university, doing my required office hours.  I chose this night above all nights because it is a time when want is keenly felt and abundance rejoices.  Wait...Sorry, I just lapsed into my Ebenezer Scrooge mode for a moment.  I told you I'm brain dead.

Anyway, I'm waiting to pick up my daughter at the dance studio at 8:30 p.m.  One more hour, and I will be homeward bound.  Home, where my thought's escaping.  Home, where my music's playing.  Home, where my love lies waiting silently for me.  Oops.  Sorry.  I just lapsed into Simon and Garfunkel mode.  Brain dead.

I have little more to accomplish tonight.  In fact, this blog post is the last of my necessary tasks.  Then I can move on to secondary tasks.  I was thinking of entering a poetry chapbook contest, but I started looking through my new poems.  They don't really hold together as a book.  Wish they did.  I could throw a manuscript together for the hell of it, but it would be a waste of $20 to enter.  I'd basically end up with a copy of the winning chapbook (which was crap last year) and a whole lot of disappointment.  That's the truth.  You want the truth?  You can't handle the truth!

Saint Marty's going to sign off before he starts quoting the Gilligan's Island theme song.

Just sit right back, and you'll hear a tale...