I need to write something so I can feel something. I need to pick something to write to feel about. Climbing up the wagon wheels is daunting. Oh, wait. I am mixing metaphors. I'm climbing back onto a horse, I have not fallen off of a wagon. Or, I'm climbing onto the horse that was once pulling the wagon that I was upon? Did I want to be on this wagon?
No. No. This should, at least, be easier than clambering to sit astride a horse, but it's not when you feel like your mind is a jumble and the chutes that take you away from the jumble are ultimately unbeneficial and lead to things like watching The Match Game-Hollywood Squares Hour into the night, laboring over work emails, and, in fact, writing everything in the style of a work email (I hope you are well!).
Heart: Well, write something already. Pick a song!
Head: But I want to google Paul Davis AND Andrew Gold, compile a comparative synthesis of their lives/styles/origins. And paint my nails. Toes and fingers.
Heart: *headdesk*
Head: Fine. Fine! All the best, Head.
Well, this one has been around a lot lately. You'd think SiriusXM's programming well would be infinite, but--at least in the soft/yacht/mellow rock areas--there's a lot repeated. That's okay, since hashtag-Soft-Rock-Saved-Me. Paul's gentle plea is cumulatively effective this way. Plus, my flowers are outside literally dying right now because it's the coolest Cool Night we've had since April (or May).
You don't have to take a stand, he says. Lay out any plans. Just come on over. Just be. Just do.
Hear that, Head?
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