So I’m sitting out here in my writing area, trying to do my thing, but I keep getting distracted. I’ve been checking out past issues, because I have the attention span of a frog on cocaine right now. If you’re never seen a frog on coke, you are totally missing out. It’s like that game “Frogger,” but there are a lot more dead cats…don’t ask.
Anyways, so I can’t seem to get anything written. I’ll be honest with you: that story that I’ve been posting: Emotion, Unchecked? Not finished. When I first started posting it, I thought, “Yeah, I’ll just come home tonight and finish it off.”
Yeah. I keep falling asleep, or talking to my friends on the phone, or reading back-issues of The Strangelands. Can’t seem to stay on-task. The great thing is, I don’t have to. I can go all over the place, talk about whatever I want to, do what I want. Don’t worry—I won’t leave you hangin’ if you’ve started reading the story (lots of people just wait until I have the whole thing posted before they start reading). It’ll be finished before the morning light, I assure you. Maybe not tomorrow’s morning light, but for sure some morning light.
But it’s nighttime right now, early evening, no matter what that bastard-ass clock tells me. Actually, I shouldn’t talk bad about my clock. I really like it. Don’t ask me why, but I’ve formed a real attachment to my alarm clock. Strange, considering that its light keeps me awake some nights, and considering that the damn thing wakes me up every morning.
One thing I like about it is that it’s got blue numbers instead of red. I’ve had it with read digital readouts, I don’t care. Another thing I like about it is that it’s so easy to set the time. Instead of having to push a button over and over and freakin’ over again (or hold it down and wait for the thing to build up speed), you just turn a wheel. Awesome. And the best feature is the programmable “snooze” button.
I’ve never been a ten-minute snooze kind of guy. For one thing, I hate the word “snooze.” For another thing, I need one more minute. Just one, that’s it. I wake up eleven minutes later, I feel like I really got something accomplished by going back to sleep. I got that extra rest that I needed. Don’t get me wrong—I’m still a grumpy, bumping-into-walls, blurry-eyed mess when I wake up. But not nearly as bad as I was eleven minutes ago.
Of course, these are all just features. The relationship I have with my alarm clock goes deeper than that. We have a bond.
Like if someone threw my alarm clock out the window so that they could “see time fly,” I would probably kick the shit out of them. And then I would go down to the parking lot, and pick up my clock, and nestle it close to my chest, and I would weep, and then I would turn my face to the sky and I would scream “Noooo!”
It would be very dramatic, and if you happened to be passing by, you would probably burst into tears just from bearing witness to the scene. And you would probably want to throw a sympathy screw my way, but I’m afraid I would have to decline.
I like my clock, is alls I’m sayin’. I mean, I don’t want to go on nature hikes with it or anything, but as far as having an annoying contraption that wakes me up every damn morning goes, it’s the best. In fact, I know that I’ve written a post about it before, but I don’t know which one. I’m not saying that to taunt you, I just wanted to get it out there in case you’re like, “Dude, this guy writes about his alarm clock all the time.” I’m aware of my problem, thank you very much.
So, yeah, I have absolutely nothing to say. Glad you could join me for it.