Devoid

This is me and the blog right now.

Devoid.

That delightful adjective describes my current writing state. I feel like the well from which I write is empty and is wanting to say the least.

You would think, given all that's going on around us, that I could find something to write about. The recent U.S. presidential debate? Not sure I can add anything to the hysteria associated with it. Besides after my detour into Trumplandia's raging chasm o'hate, I'm sitting out for a little while. Life now that I'm 50? Nothing has changed, so nothing to talk about, at least for now. That'll change with my first yet to be scheduled colonoscopy fiesta. The stunningly patient and mighty fine SML has already thrown down the mighty hammer of opposition on my ill-conceived idea of live blogging it. You can thank her (and the anaesthetist) now or later, it's up to you.

If nothing else, at least you know now that there's going to at least one post coming about the joys of a colonoscopy. So you have that to look forward to. In the meantime, I'm going to take comfort in this  piece of wisdom for the late American poet and writer Charles Bukowski:

"writing about a writer's block is better than not writing at all"