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August 26, 2001

watching and waiting
 

People sometimes ask me where I get such swell ideas to write about.   By  "sometimes," I mean every third vernal equinox.   Others often want to know why I haven't been institutionalized.   By "often," I mean several times per day.   The answer to the latter question involves budget cuts and bed-space.   The answer to the former question is easy:   I spend an inordinate amount of time alone without annoying distractions like a loving family, hobbies or interests.   This solitude is conducive to Muse visitations.

I do not speak here in the figurative sense.   No, I mean I am actually visited by a female Muse (about nineteen years old and usually wearing a Catholic schoolgirl's uniform) who, in the course of casual conversation, slyly suggests topics to write about.   For example, moments ago we were discussing the film career of Keanu Reeves and trying our best to think of a worse actor in the entire history of acting from the Greek tragedies to modern film.   The Muse and I were stumped.   At one point, she wanted to know whether or not I had seen Keanu play a serial killer in a movie called The Watcher.   I allowed as how I had seen that piece of dreck and we marveled at the utter redundancy of the casting.   Mr. Reeves has serially murdered every single role he has ever stud-muffined his way into snagging.

So, really, I too am just a watcher.   A watcher and a waiter.

©  2001 by the beastmaster