A Thursday. Gonna be honest with you, I waited way too long to start writing this. The melatonin kicked in 30 minutes ago, and the dishwasher is on some kind of revenge kick. Been leaking and sputtering all over the place, and even when it works, it sounds like someone blowing the fear whistles they gave to kids at “Fright Fest” at six flags amusement parks during the halloween season. What’s that? Waaaay too specific of a reference? It’s a high pitched whistle, man, it’s driving me nuts. Took the thing apart yesterday, thought I made some headway, but just as I was writing the first sentence of this post, I heard the ominous drippings from the next room. So, my hands are soaked with dish soap and food slop even as I whip them across the keyboard at this very moment.
The question then becomes: have I nothing better to write about? Actually, no. It’s already happened. The doldrums of everyday life have taken hold, as I’m sure you are well aware. I had to scurry behind a car like a frightened rat just to snap the picture you see above, of a poke bowl place right across the street from my apartment. And that’s the whole point: to try to find even one moment worth remembering in each day.
Sadly, this idea stems from the lie that this is even desirable, let alone possible. I just wrote about the dishwasher, for christ sakes. Today is the first of many that truly don’t need to be remembered. And yet, we live them. And yet, I write.
See you tomorrow.
Nick
Nick Denardi 