There are times when I’m just gutted.  Where I don’t wanna do nuttin at all.

Today is one of them.

Which is mildly amusing, considering I did nothing over the weekend.  See, I was sick.  Saturday all I did was sleep.  Sunday was better, but I still did very little.  Same with today.

I’m gutted.  All I want to do is read, play games, and veg out.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

On the surface.

Below, however, oh below, it’s another matter.  I’m not growing younger.  I’m growing older.  Time is not on my side.  I need to get things done.  If for no other reason that if I wait too much longer, they will never be done.

So I’m gutted.  And irritated that I’m gutted.

Which is why I’m writing a blog post.  Because, if nothing else, I have written something.  It might not be of substance, but let’s face it, most of this blog is the ramblings of a man with delusions of adequacy.

Most of it.


Hey, I can only keep this humble crap up so long.

Whether the act of writing inspires more writing or is more spinning wheels remains cloudy.  Ask again later.

I never owned a Magic 8 ball as a kid.  I wonder why not?

Rambling post much? Just a little.

Shall we go back to point?  Let’s!

After posting, I’m going to check and see if WordPress gives me an amusing prompt to work on.  Failing that, I go back to working on the novel.  For a NaNoWriMo quickly I’m really not wanting to let it fade away for some reason.  And that’s a good thing.

Or the reason I’m gutted (oh not, not those people again!  Ek!)  We shall see what we shall see.

Anyways.  Gutted, but with the will to be anything but.


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