So it goes. Words and paragraphs do not make up characters. I don’t think I’ve ever made. . .don’t go there. I have made up characters that were interesting. I’ve just never made them do anything interesting except explain their backstory. I’m quite good at having them talk about their backstory and not actually showing the backstory. I guess that’s what makes me write. I’m a teller not a shower. And, no, I did not mean the parade of water falling down.

So if I was going to sit here and write something, what would it be? It’s a small keyboard and all I seem to do on this leather couch is consternate. My fingers are too long for such small keys and yet I don’t bother to do much in the way of using this pain in a productive way. I wish I could move beyond this. But that is easier said than done. That’s the way with it all: I talk about it but I never do anything about it. So it goes.

He had a magic sword. No it was a bag full of magic. Or words burned into his arm. She was stronger than him. She knew much more than him. She was the one that wielded the sword in one hand a bag of magic in the other. If ever she lost those things. She does, of course. She loses those things all the time. That’s the problem with sword wielding wizardresses. They’re always losing stuff on their way to put on makeup and dress up for the dance.

Man, I am truly useless. At least I’m pounding out useless words. It’s nice to throw bad ideas against the wall again. It’s almost like the days of Nano. I wish I could story, though. I wish I could plot and build characters and worlds that soar beyond my imagination. Instead I craft sentences that I fall I love with only to realize that they’re not held up by anything except fancy words. Nobody wants to read fancy words unless they’re the scaffolding for something deeper and more beautiful.

Why can’t I ever find that more beautiful thing? I have enough inspiration, don’t I? or is it that I spend so much time at work that all I have is work and family life that I can talk about. I also have martial arts, but that’s as interesting as the rest of the junk. I need conflicts and desires and things that will push me over the edge of that magical world. It will come to me one of these days. One of these days I’ll sit down and get ready to consternate and words will pour forth from my fingers and I’ll realize that it really doesn’t need to be that way anymore.

It turns out rinse aid is a magical potion. Who knew? Now we have a working dishwasher again. Man, I wish we had tried that with our old and free dishwasher. I guess you live and learn. Live and learn, my friends. There’s no other way to do it.