Empty

The skull is an echo chamber—completely empty.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. There’s a heck of a lot in there. I’ve got two pages of blog prompts and a page of opening lines for a dozen or so posts, but I can’t really find anything about which I’d like to talk. And that’s not entirely true either. There a lot of things that are making me happy (beautiful family, editing my novel, good friends, and so on) and a lot of things making me angry (Snooki getting paid $32,000—by the student body no less—to speak at Rutgers University; the odd 1984-esque bills being bandied about by an abortion obsessed senators/congresspersons; how pissed I was that Amazing Race was preempted by the CMAs—grrr; the fact that we are so obsessed with Lohan, Sheen, and… okay… The Amazing Race that we are distracted from the disaster in Japan, the job disaster here at home; and the fact that we are fighting two wars), but I can’t summon up enough happy or angry juice to fuel a joyous expounding or a rage filled rant.

Sigh.

I could blame being a busy, working daddy or the fact that we will be selling our apartment and moving in less than a month or that I just released a book that I’m trying to get people to peep or that I am editing a 14 year old novel or helping out with taxes or because I’m waiting to hear on three major, life changing things or that really good friends are moving away or… okay… I’m a little busy. I guess there are no echoes in the skull—it’s more of a no-room-in-the-skull issue. Maybe next week I’ll have something for ya… something of substance… something of great import… something about… something! Until then… stay alive and sane.