One ought to have a box somewhere – with countless topics just waiting to be written about. Then in those rare days when one doesn’t want to write about what happened during the day (stayed home again, finished recording the entries for the year 1800, read Eco and ate too much) one could just dip into the box and pull a topic out.
Now one is forced to rack one’s brains, check the TV for inspiration – how does macho guys who wish to impress you by wrestling with crocodiles sound? – or just randomly stare at the air and wait for divine revelation to strike. But alas, revelations are never there when you want them.
The TV-program is distracting – travelling in the Bahamas. Looks absolutely gorgeous. And is over just when you are about to get interested in it. Replaced by British humour. I rather like British humour. Thoughts on gardening. Why all these summery programs in the middle of winter?
- I have no idea.
- What?
- Why they are showing these programs in the middle of winter?
- It was a rhetorical question.
- And it’s not the middle of winter. It’s hardly even winter yet officially.
- A figure of speech! Darn, you’re a nimbwit, aren’t you? Where’s that nasty, sarcastic cousin of yours?
- Gone. Said that we were both damned boring and went to take a vacation in Sahara. Or possibly Costa Rica.
- Great. Do you have a topic for me to write about?
- I don’t know. Vacations?
- Vacations?
- Yeah... Is that not good? Philosophy then?
- Philosophy was where language went to take a vacation.
- What?
- Nothing. Just something someone said once. Oh, bugger it. If there is nothing to write about, there is always reading.
- Or you could talk to me. Hello? Hello? Where did you go?
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