Sorry it has been such a stretch between posts. I typically stay away from the computer on weekends, and I just haven't felt that good since Sunday. Have you ever had one of those weekends where everything that transpires seems fun, but by the time you hit Monday you feel broken-down and lifeless? This past weekend has done that to me, and it's left me completely uninspired...and sick.Ray Bradbury once wrote that a person wanting to become a good writer should write EVERY day - no exceptions. I wonder if he felt that way after Tequila Tuesdays or Fountain Fridays or Sangria Sundays. Lame excuse, I know. I suppose bender fatigue never hurt Hemingway's production. But, it sure doesn't look like it did much for his stability either.
I think my lack of sleep and stratospheric BAC level over the course of the weekend gave my immune system the go-ahead to take a vacation. Then, some nasty, villainous germ waltzed into the Ole' temple control room and now sits there...cackling and twirling its mustache. My throat itches. I can't stop sneezing. I feel like (Jaundice-inflicted) Adrien Brody looked at the end of "The Pianist."
So I have no desire to attempt wit. I feel no compunction over not entertaining. I just wanted anybody who cared to know that I'm not dead yet; there will be a proper update as soon as my mojo gets cold or hungry enough to come home; and you should never sleep beneath an open window on a chilly night. You'll end up sick, unfunny...uninspired.
