Thursday, April 4, 2013

prime time

Why is it that thoughts can no longer form in my brain and then leak out onto the page? What's going on here? Wuz up wit dat? I wonder if it is a vitamin deficiency or lack of sunshine or carbonation or not enough wine or too much whining internally and externally and eternally we will be stuck in this blogosphere and Twitterverse and Facebook-Hall-of-Mirrors and where is the magician with the magic hat to pull us out of our constantly distracted stasis?

I am confused by my last paragraph. And by life in general. And why some people are generals while others are sergeants and why sergeants is spelled the way it is and sometimes things just are the way they are and we need to breathe and buy into something so we can wake up in the morning and lie down at least semi-satisfied at night.

Lately I have been very interested in ghost stories.

Through evidence and reasoning and assuming and so forth, it seems as though Thursdays are lonely nights for the general public. But isn't Thursday night a good night for prime time? While all of the sitcoms are on break for summer, we (meaning me and the television gods) should change the spelling of "prime time" to "pryme thyme" and see if anyone (meaning EVERYONE) notices.

And this is an example of how my brain has stopped functioning.

No comments: