The past few weeks, I've been suffering a ridiculous writer's block. I a complete feed-me-some-mental-prune-juice, slip-my-drink-a-prosaic-Exlax... a complete BLOCK. I sit down to write and I just don't feel like I can get anything out. It's not as though I don't have anything to write, on the contrary, my brain is swirling in gestating ideas, manic storms of emotion, and short spurts of creativity and hunger.
I guess there's just sooo much, I don't know were to start. A bit like the pile of laundry piling up in the corner of my bathroom.
So in an effort to experience a pleasing vowel-movement, I will do the blog equivalent of sitting on toilet until something happens, no matter how long it takes.
...waiting...thinking...
So I've been thinking a lot lately about social clustering, and how we form them in the ongoing rush of everyday circumstance. I saw a show on Animal Planet about how red ants will cluster together when dumped in water and create floating colonies of life. We seem to do the same things as humans, don't we?
While sitting at Autumn's wedding reception on Saturday night, I had the chance to sit back and observe my own personal cluster; a group of people who have snatched each other from the broiling currents of humanity that we pass each day. Is this by design or circumstance? Who can say? Perhaps my cluster is simply the result of applied chaos theory, and the equation leading me to this intersection of space, time, and conscience is far too elegant and deep in beauty for me to comprehend. Perhaps my social cluster is fated, if you believe such in such a thing.
I wonder how long red ants will hold together as they float towards some mysterious end? An hour? A day? Longer? My cluster has held together almost 7 years now. Our cast of characters has played out many dramas, and the plot has become nuanced and textured in age. And as though we are tethered to the whimsy of the writing staff for "ER", each passing season promises us stories and events hitherto untold.
So as I sit here in front of my crappy, needs-to-be-replaced, monitor, I raise my half empty can of Mug rootbeer and toast all my clustermates...
"May we continue to clutch tightly, keep our heads above water, and enjoy the trip downstream."
Salud.
