Think of this as an experiment in electricity. And maybe caffeine. Definitely don't think of it as a spaceholder post that begs you to forget about my month-long blogging hiatus.
Sometimes you wake up in the morning, and during your first cup of coffee, the book you're reading takes a wild left-hand turn that allows your brain to catch fire. I mean, you find a cluster of sentences that really blows the roof off your head. These are the days when the sun shines, your anxiety ebbs, and you stop worrying about the increasingly real possibility of having a president named Mitt. The real world, for whatever brief interval, becomes something you can crawl out from under. You're still broke and underemployed by the devil, but your thought patterns, whirling and writhing as they are, finally let you think this is hilarious. Because it really is. You even enjoy thinking through this poem about a pianist that you don't usually care for.
You drive to work, gravelly songstress pouring out of open car windows, and you ignore your passive-aggressive dealbreaker of an officemate. Even when he wishes you a happy Flag Day. No, especially when he wishes you a Happy Flag Day. Pausing to tip your hat to Ronnie Reagan -- who you allow yourself to believe might have been less monstrous if Fiona Apple had been around in the early 80s, if maybe he'd just listened more -- you settle into your desk and blow off your work, in favor of an improvisational blogging experiment. And I think most importantly of all, you take a breath. Maybe even two. They're small, after all.
I expect this mood to last until 11:30, if I'm lucky.