1. I know, I know, I said I wouldn't post until tomorrow. But I felt like posting tonight. *shrug* And whaddayou care, anyway.
2. "Lisey's Story" is turning out to be a tremendous S-King book. I'm about halfway and just eating it up. All I'm waiting on now is for it to turn "Dark Tower" on me. There was already a glancing reference to "the Territories" but I'm hoping for more.
3. It's the ten-year anniversary of Radiohead's seminal album "OK Computer." Stereogum is celebrating with some interesting covers. I'm sure I could try to write something intellectually stimulating about the album and its importance in the history of alternative music, but I'm too lazy. Keep an eye on Mr. Jones' page. He's always good for top-notch musical criticism. As soon as he stops going all "Woody Allen" about the mainstream-ing of Wilco, I'm sure he'll provide a nice little Radiohead lovefest.
4. That's really the crux of it--I'm an inordinately lazy writer. To the point where I hesitate to think of myself as a "writer." Are you an artist if you don't create anything? Or does that leave you as just a "dreamer"? Maybe I am, but (like ol' John says) "I'm not the only one..."
5. Once I find my literary mojo, I've got some good ideas. I've got a bunch of lousy ones, too, in case you're interested. But I have some good ones. A few quirky characters. I'm still punching around the Redux project in my head, and I'm trying to think through the next step on "Taylor House" (is it just me, or do I keep saying the same things over and over?).
6. The diet started and stopped again. Lost 4 pounds, gained them back. Darn these office luncheons. They'll be the death of me. Figuratively speaking, I hope. Though, once you hit my particular plateau, that old phrase becomes too eerily possible.
7. I'm not sleeping enough these days. My temper's grown shorter as a result. And I've gotten both more uptight and more loosey-goosey, at the same time. If you've ever been consistently tired for a period of days or weeks, you know exactly what I'm talking about here. There is no even-keel or balance with my mood right now. I swing between Ben-Stiller-angry and Owen-Wilson-pseudostoned. It's bizarro.
8. I'm craving Chipotle. Yes, enough for it to get its own point.
9. It's weird how you can be nostalgic for things you never had in the first place. I was driving home from a little get-together (made up mostly of my married friends and their kids) last Friday night, and it was around ten o'clock. I was listening to the radio (my stations of choice are the classic rock, oldies, and 80's stations, in case you were curious), and I said to myself, "I need to go do something." Like, I was worried that I was wasting an opportunity of some kind because I wasn't out living the nightlife. I almost called up some friends, but knowing these particular friends, we would have ended up at a poolhall, a Starbucks, or at one guy's house playing XBox. That's not what I was looking for. And I thought to myself, "What happened to me? I used to be so..." But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I used to be exactly like this. In college, I never went out dancing at clubs, or to parties (almost never, anyway), or on the town (as much town as you get in central OK, anyway). My college "nightlife" consisted of sitting around on couches in the lobby of the girls dorm, hanging out with folks, or maybe going to an all-nite diner and eating a cinnamon roll the size of my face (or the "Grilled Cheese Supreme"...boy howdy). I was not Mr. Nightlife, by any definition. Yet somehow, on this past Friday night, as I drove to my folks' house to say hi, I still felt like I was letting myself down. (Yeah, I'm pretty sure I've written something like this before.)
10. I'm doing pretty good, truth be told. I'm busy, and tired, and stressed out, and not eating right or exercising, and not brushing my teeth enough, and I've got a short temper sometimes, and I don't spend enough time practicing spiritual discipline or serving others. But I'm okay, overall. Can't complain. (Ha.) Really, my main problem is that I feel restless. Like I'm not living up to my potential. I'm missing the mark. And it's annoying, because somewhere deep inside beneath the years of "good enoughs," the midget overachiever in me is screaming that I'm capable of more than I'm producing now. But when it comes to putting one foot in front of the other and building up a head of steam to actually accomplish something, I find I can't muster the willpower. I'm too tired. So I (both metaphorically and sometimes literally) grab something bad for me from the fridge, flop down on the couch, flip on the Cubs game, and zone out. My life these days, it seems, is measured in workweeks I've survived. That's no way to live, but it's an easy rhythm to fall into.
So there's my Wednesday night post, kids. No alarms, and no surprises. Silent.