I was just trying to think of something to write about. I was having no luck, as I seldom do. I was thinking about the absurdity of it all. Spending my precious time trying to write things that, by my own admission, I don't really want people to read.
But then the absurdity of the word absurdity struck me in the back of the head, that absurdity having been flung perhaps by my cat Buddy, who for some reason has hoisted himself onto the bookshelf behind me.
This thing I use for a life, such as it is - it's taken on a surreal form of absurdity for several months. I can't think of a single thing that's normal. Oh, I'm not saying that things are bad. Not at all. I know bad. I've lived bad. This isn't bad. It's surreal and absurd.
It's kinda like I'm in a play, and all the world's a stage. I pretend because everyone else is pretending. Even though I cannot really accept that anyone believes this crap, I can't be certain that it's not me who's being fooled. So I keep playing along, even though people keep ad-libbing. Even though people keep breaking character. Even though it's absurd, this show still must go on.
I'm in a weird mood.