A Bit Of Blank Sheet Writing

I haven't done something in a long time. I haven't done some blank sheet writing. It's where you simply start writing and go wherever. It's fun, and sometimes very helpful when you're dealing with writer's block. So, here we go!

Interesting line that I read once was, "What do you add to instant karma?" I remember instant coffee from my parents' days. I'm such a coffee snob that I won't dare try the stuff. Instant anything in my mind is very sketchy. Incidentally, what happens when you add water to milk powder is not the same thing that happens when you add water to baby powder.

It's a long day today. I guess "Time flies...." holds true. I hate those long January days when nothing is unusual. It's such a scale-down from December. It's almost an anti-holiday month. We always wish each other Happy New Year, and then nobody has a holiday for a month and a half. Unless you count Groundhog Day. Last, I checked, I'm not one of those, so I don't have cause for a happy February 2nd. Neither did Bill Murray, but he had an awesome Feb 3rd that year.

We don't live like that, but we should. That's awfully Mary Poppinn-ish, but it's true. The problem with cheerfulness in the human condition is that we constantly take good things for granted. Like for me, I assume the coffee will be there.

God, I love coffee. I love it more than tea, but only slightly more. I think that makes me as Scottish as my roots. My friend says that his experience in Scotland right after Braveheart came out was, "Hey, you're from America! We hate the British too!" What an experience that must have been.

Speaking of the Scottish, I've been watching this new series called Hot Rocks with Iain Stewart. His Scottish brogue is warming and he somehow ties everything in the Pacific Rim to geology. Thus the title, Hot Rocks.

Speaking of rock, my friend's daughter bought a hat with "The Beatles" logo on it quite a while ago. The same day she bought it, she tacked an extra S on the end of "The Beatles." I'm not sure if she's rhythmically challenged or if she's merely grateful for enduring fewer beatings. My guess is the latter because she does play the guitar, although you never know.

My son thinks that my typing skills are amazing. He sees me typing while staring at the ceiling and thinks I'm somehow doing a trick. Ah, I remember hunt-and-peck. Thank God, I learned to type--barely--when I was 10 years old. It kept me from going insane. I had a learning disability, and writing by hand was very difficult for me.

Since we're back at the station where this train of thought began (typing), I suppose I should get off here. Free association, anyone?