Much of the time, but not always, I write for SnappedShots the day before you read it. Sometimes, I store up some writing, although not as often as I wish and not as much. As it turns out it’s Sunday night and Desperate Housewives wasn’t on and old rerun cartoons just isn’t cutting it. But when I turn the TV off and listen to the big empty noise, I am not any more relieved.

I drank too much coffee this weekend. Much more than usual. And I have lived at my computer. I have Space Bar Thumb. You know the kind? Where you have been typing so much that your right thumb hurts from hitting the space bar. So far I have used…well, I was going to count my spaces, but I gave up. I gave up because my eyes hurt. Coffee won’t keep them open any more. My eyes hurt because I can’t sleep and they hurt because I’ve been looking at my computer too long.

I keep my store of writing in my Drafts box in Outlook. I see: “Scar Series#01” – that was published somewhere else. I see “On Silas” which was about the meaning of my name (meaning either ‘wood’ or ‘to beg or borrow’). “On Making People Nervous” was about how people can never really tell if I’m being sarcastic and how that makes people nervous. “Lists” was a list of lists I was planning on doing. Yes I know, that’s perhaps a meaningful measure of compulsion: a list of lists. I might still do that.

I should create a folder called “Abandoned”. I have many abandoned ideas. “Pointless Distractions” and “More Pointless Distractions” – they were just that pointless. Mad Cow Conspiracy, All Purpose Bed Time Story, and, yes, there’s even one called Abandoned Ideas.

In that one, in the one called “Abandoned Ideas”, there’s a list of abandoned ideas for images. One in particular was mad. I wanted to get like 100 rolls of toilet paper and some food coloring. I wanted to rip up the toilet paper into tiny little bits of paper. I wanted to soak, color, and dry about one hundred different colors for all of those tiny bits of paper. And you understand I meant to document this process daily. I wanted to, in pieces, construct the thirteen characters, the walls, the floor, the food, and the table of The Last Supper using my bits of colored toilet paper like a mosaic. And, after weeks, perhaps months, I was going to assemble all the pieces into a giant mosaic of The Toilet Paper Last Supper and I was going to sell it. It’s still a fun idea. But it began to sound like it just might kill me.

I my dream last night I saved a baby who was climbing over a fence. On the other side of the fence was a very long fall. When I rescued the baby and gave it to the administrator, who was Ellen, she was not impressed. In fact she was irritated that now it looked like she was going to have to babysit this rescued tot.

Yes, well, if it wasn’t 10pm, this one would probably be doomed to stay in my Drafts folder but I called it Drafts and that would just be really confusing.

SS