Tilting the Void

This just in: that slow leaking sensation you're experiencing is not your bladder failing yet again, it's your unconscious alerting you to the fact that yes, another day has slipped away once more without anything exciting or fulfilling happening. Instead of writing the next blockbuster novel that becomes an Oscar award winning movie or drawing the next big indie comic, you have in fact knitted 3/4 of a sock while watching They Call Me Bruce, and laughed an inordinate amount at juvenile, slapstick humor of a very low garden variety. (Great movie, by the way, and perfect for knitting. It's not like you're missing any huge leaps of the intellect if you happen to drop a stitch or something).

Time, my girl, is not your friend. You've seen the damage in the mirror--those lines weren't there ten years ago, and what's with all these twenty-somethings out partying on the lawn? Get off the lawn, you whippersnappers! Or I'll unleash the dogs. Or maybe I'll just unleash them anyway--what's the difference? Where, oh where has my sense of righteous indignation gone? My concern for issues? My agendas? My moral code?

Bah, leave me alone.