There are lots of things I ought to be telling you about. My weekend at the beach. The photo shoot. The fact that I read Tom Piccirilli’s The Cold Spot in little more than a day (I’m a notoriously slow reader) and would recommend it to anyone and everyone. That I enjoyed Iron Man and, despite some misgivings, The Forbidden Kingdom, and expect this summer’s movie season to be vastly superior to last summer’s.
I could tell you I’ve started watching Lost, and tonight finished the last episode of the first season. (Don’t tell me anything. Nothing. Nada. Comprende?)
The mailman left a bunch of books on my door the past few days, some of which are bound to be worth mentioning.
But none of this (and I apologize to anyone who might feel put out by this) will make it into tonight’s entry. Because tonight, the only thing I’m here to tell you is this: I’m overdue for an entry. I should be saying something, here, to you. But right now, despite that I have many things I could say and quite I few I might say and some I should say, tonight nothing will be said. Unspoken, perhaps the tales and tidbits will grow, multiply, possibly fester as they wait. Some, doubtlessly, will shudder once and disappear, forever unsaid. Others will demand attention, and will get it. But not tonight.
Tonight, my mind is unfocused. I couldn’t stay on a single topic if I tried. So much bouncing around inside my head. Some good, some bad, some ugly, some downright confusing, and some of it wonderful and terrible and strange. Snapshots, really. Iotas. Hints. Teases.
Soon enough, I will again brave the depths of my own mind, and share with you some of what I find. Make no mistake, this is the place where that will happen. But tonight, I tread only the shallow waters.
Hmmm…perhaps I’m still, at least in my head, at the beach.
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