Why I haven't written, or have I? 1/22/10

I haven’t written here for well over a month. I have had a few of my loyal readers contact me and it was their consensus that my real-life stories entertain them better than my attempts at 55 word fiction. Frankly, I had not had any events in my life lately that inspired me to post. Having posted here for nearly three years, I am often not sure which of the outrageous shit that is my life I have actually written or just thought about writing. Often, I compose an entire post in my head before actually putting it to Word. When one is in the early stages of dementia, there is very little difference in thinking it and writing it. Kind of like Catholic sin. Fantasizing about having sex with your friend’s wife is the same as actually doing it. It is certainly not the same to the friend but it is to the Pope. Maybe that is why Popes don’t marry. Too many guys would be nailing their wives.

It is the same way with the spoken word. I often think I have said something to someone, when I have actually only thought about saying it. Then of course I insist I have told them and a fight ensues. For example: I went in for a fairly important medical procedure and thought I had told my kids about it. Evidently I had not. They found out some time later during a normal conversation at a birthday party for one of my grandchildren. I now know that is the kind of information they would like to have before the fact. Had I been one of the 1 in 200,000 that die from the anesthesia, they may have been confused and disturbed by the morgue calling them to claim my cadaver. That is, if there had been anything left to claim, as I am an organ donor.

Conversely, sometimes I say something aloud that I was only thinking and had no intention of saying out loud and a fight ensues. What is perceived as a lack of tact on my part is actually a serious cognitive disorder. An example: I was visiting a couple, let’s call them Steve and Brenda Moss. They were fairly close friends but I had not roamed their home before. Their wedding photos were displayed in their hallway. Now at this time Brenda weighed in at about three bills. The bride in her wedding photo resembled a young Grace Kelly, only with a better body (for you younger people, imagine Jessica Alba). I thought to myself, “What happened to you?” But it turns out; I was not thinking that to myself. I was thinking it to her. You can’t put those bullets back in the gun. I have never felt like a bigger crapweasel.

So, I guess this post is a good illustration as to why I do not write often. I do not know what I was trying to say here.