I am completely without thought.

Every day, at this point, I do the same thing. Write something in this blog to get my hands and my mind warmed up. I look forward to it, the moment I finish the warm-up the day before. It is fun. There is no pressure, there is no subject, it is whatever I want or think, and it functions only to get me started writing and thinking for the day. Once I'm warm I actually, physically (two adverbs in a row when even one is frowned upon, bad mind!) enjoy the act of typing. It feels good. It feels to me the way I imagine a thoughtless physical act such as running would feel like, if I ran, which I don't.

I begin the warm-up the same way every day, I type in a title. This serves two purposes. The first is that, if you skip the title and start on the body, Blogger takes the first sentence as the default title. This is bad and given the lack of subject, leads to ridiculous titles. I skipped it a couple times and when I looked back the next day, I didn't recognize the piece by looking at the list. The second reason for starting with the title is, it's a small kickoff to making up more. I don't hold titles to any standard at all, but I would like to sound good. To me, the title isn't related to the piece in any way for warm-ups, other than it serves to name it. One is not drawn from the other.

So, it is kind of frightening when I sit down here to begin my warm-up and I can't start. Again this morning, I pull up the Blogger and cursor to the title and... (wrong use of the ellipse here but) nothing happens, or I should say, something happens inside but nothing happens outside. I get that same "deer in the headlights" stagestruck feeling I did in third grade for the play when all I had to do was say an eight-line poem, simple, quick, practiced it for a month, had it cold. My part came and ... (again, please forgive me) nothing, The world stops and looks directly at me as if to say, "WELL?" I stood there for maybe 1 1/4 hours before the vice principal had the janitor get a wheeled dolly and they rolled me offstage while the reporters popped flashbulbs on giant Speed Graphic Cameras (the big Pacemaker models).

Not really, but it felt that way, I did hesitate and then delivered the lines in a rapid mumble. I heard them, but I'm sure I was the only one who did. Still, it was my moment and I had it and the rest of my life has been downhill after that. Just joking with you.

There was a pause here and I return to the job here after fending off something or other. But seriously, folks.

If I am to warm up, I must get through this whole piece without gettng up and tending dogs, or kids, or needfuls. The best method is the direct method. Locked in the room (it doesn't lock), tapping away at the keyboard until all the inhibitions of mind are no more. Until what I think, flows through rapid finger movements and out into the world. Scary thought.

I'll tell you one thing. This damn Caps Lock key is too big and too close to my left little finger. I spend half my day (wild exaggeration) backspacing over big letters and turning the caps lock off again after I type anything with a capital A. There, I feel better now. You just have to let those things go sometimes. The world would be a better place if more people did. Write your congressman! I beg of you.

Well, I think I'm getting there. I will finish this and move on to the next hurdle. The Rising Gorge piece which is supposed to be a short character study or dialog or exposition, Anything of a real writing type that pops up. I don't think I typed anything with a q in it yet, like question. or quisling, or quahog. That was harder than I thought.

OK, well---

More later,