Sometimes well, how it happens is, I lie down on the couch and start thinking about something stupid, like why I never bought a yearbook in high school, and that gets me thinking about all the people who kept all their yearbooks and how every time they move, they have to lug those pointless, heavy books with them, and that gets me thinking about how much moving sucks in flat Tampa, which always makes me think about how much moving would suck in San Francisco, where it's hillier than hilly piles of shit.
Oh yeah, it's a well known fact: Frisco is hilly.
And hills always make me think of mountains, and then eventually, the Black Hills and the Badlands which always made me want to punch someone really hard while grinning relentlessly and yelling “Woooo” because they're so breathtakingly, awe-inspiringly cool-looking, and then I think, you know, that'd be cool, you know, if I could sit down and write something that would inspire people like the Black Hills and the Bad Lands inspire me. I mean, then I'd be pretty damn good writer.
And then I start thinking of other stuff I couldn't do justice writing about, like the smell of bacon frying in a pan, or coffee when you know you need it, or the ocean, or even the deep smile of a satisfied woman, and that gets to depress me a little, I mean, knowing that I really ain't that good at what I do.
And then, I realize that even if I'm not good, I'm not gonna stop writing nor am I willing to make a conscious effort to improve. So the argument is moot.
That's always a good feeling, you know, mooting an argument.
And then I think about how cool it would be if life had a Moot Button. Like if you could just realize when an argument is unimportant to the matter at hand, say “Moot” and have the other party know that it is up to them to prove how, at this very moment, the current argument is gonna help any one or any thing. If they can't do that, they have to drop the argument.
Hey, that's a cool idea, I think. A moot button. I could add other stuff, too. Like a sex button. And a dead cat button (that'd be easy 'cause everyone knows you use a pillow-covered shovel). Wow, hey, maybe I could write a piece like that or something.
I mean, why the hell not? It's not like I can describe the badlands, anyway.