My Helicopter Is Full Of Eels

I bet you all thought I'd dropped off the planet, didn't you? Leaving you all in the lurch, without anything to read or complain about. What up wit dat, Jeff, I can hear you all cry - except for one guy in Poland, who has but the faintest grasp of ebonics. Also, his accent is terrible. Anyway, what was I saying? What was I saying? I haven't the foggiest. Not a glimmer. My brain is emptier than a really really empty thing that's really empty. I need to go to Simile School don't I?



Some days are like that. Sometimes I just cannot think of anything to write about. I remember once reading a book for aspiring writers that extolled the virtues of getting up at the crack of dawn every day and writing at least a thousand words before breakfast. Well, I'm sorry, but the last time I saw the crack of dawn was from the wrong end after a hard night of partying, about 20 years ago or more. If I am out of bed before about 8am these days it's because I have to get up to go to the bathroom. Add to that my coffee addiction which sometimes looms perilously close to nightmarish proportions and the likelihood of me writing anything before about lunchtime is excruciatingly small.

The trouble with being a blogger (and I realise here I'm probably preaching to the choir) is that real life often tends to get in the way. One has to prioritize. I might get an idea for something to write about but it usually happens when I'm at work, or when there are a great pile of dishes to be washed. I find I am standing there thinking about it and saying to myself, 'Just do these dishes, Jeff, and then you can go write this stuff down'. Naturally, by the time I do, I've forgotten what it was I wanted to say, which just compounds the issue. Sometimes I think maybe becoming a hermit would be a good idea - just me, my computer, alone in a shed cranking out page after page of this high-quality drivel like Ted Kaczynski - well, not quite like Ted... I don't know the first thing about explosives, to start with, and I am a jolly sort of fellow - and the shed of course would have to have all the comforts of home, and satellite, and maybe a butler... but I think I would miss human interaction and of course, my girlfriend.

But I am one of those people that find it hard to focus on things when there is distraction around. I cannot, repeat cannot have a phone conversation in a noisy room surrounded by other people talking. If you were to come visit me at home and the phone should ring, I would have to leave the room with it in order to answer it. I cannot focus on what the caller is saying to me if there are other people talking or if the TV is on. It all becomes babble.

Likewise I cannot stand to be watching a TV show or a movie on TV or in the cinema and have people talking through it. Even if it's a re-run of Blackadder I have to have silence. My feeling is, I want to watch it, so show some respect, mainly to me, the viewer, but also to the show. If I care enough to deem it worthy of viewing (and there's precious little these days that is, let's face it) then that means I think others should respect it, and if those around me don't see eye-to-eye with that viewpoint, then I will walk out of the room rather than suffer at the hands of noisy peeps. I can always watch it later, when I'm alone. Thank you, DVR, what a wonderful invention you are.

This is good. I'm on a roll now. I am hitting my stride. In my element. What was I talking about? Let me read back a few sentences. Ah yes. I think I'm done with that now.

I am gratified that my blogs are getting respectable numbers of hits per day (anywhere between 40 to 90) although I do think to myself sometimes that perhaps it's the sheer number of posts I've already put out that is causing the increase in popularity. Maybe, though, it's that I have something worthwhile to say, something that perhaps touches a few nerves and makes people sit and think. If that's the case, then yippee skippee to me. If not, then fine, I'm going to be doing this a while, at least until the rest of my talents are discovered by a waiting world - my musical ability, my impressions, my cooking, my sparkling wit, my humility....

Anyway, I have to go look at some shed catalogues and put an ad for a butler in the local rag. Later, dudes.