Ah, the blankness of a new blog post. Some mornings, a little daunting, but not as daunting as a blank page in a manuscript.
The hierarchy of blankness.
Which I think sounds like the title of a work of literary fiction, which, being literary fiction, would of course end bleakly. After a bleak middle. And a surprisingly unbleak beginning.
That’s how they getcha.
I sit here, wanting more coffee, reminding myself it’s the first of the month so it’s a fun day for bills, and really logic dictates that the rest of the first of the month stuff will go much more smoothly if I have that coffee.
Or maybe I’m lying to myself.
Eh, does it matter? I’ll make it a half-caff. Back in a sec.
And off it brews. I’ve only looked at a tiny fraction of my photos so far, I took thousands. Thousands and thousands of pictures. I might have gone a little overboard, but thankfully, given I was on a cruise ship, not in the literal sense.
That’s a different kind of blankness, the Blankness of Multitudes, which is, of course, the sequel to the Hierarchy of Blankness. It’s a book you dive into hoping that some of the bleakness is undone somehow, but it never is.
But I digress. It’s a state where you see nothing because you have too much in front of you, too many pathways, too many options, in my case, far too many photos.
And to that I have just one thing to say. Is that coffee ready yet?!
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