I Could Write About ...

It’s all quiet in the house. I sit alone in the writing office, wondering what to write.

I could write about how uninspired I am to write, considering the writing office is now a disheveled finance office. Imagine the accounting office of a Wall Street firm – or a Mom and Pop store – after a flock of OWS and other frustrated Obama supporters looking for Change have trashed and squatted here for six weeks or so. That’s what my writing office looks like.

Or I could write about my wife – fleeing me on a Saturday night for movie night with her girlfriend. Movie in question: Eclipse, one of those moody vampires versus werewolf flicks all the middle schoolers are texting about.

I could write about the movie I have on deck for later tonight: the animated Lord of the Rings, last seen in childhood. Yes, Leonard and Sheldon from Big Bang Theory are coming over later. In full Middle-earth costume.

I could write about the coolest three words in the English language, words seen in the first chapter of Heinlein’s Time for the Stars, also last seen in childhood. Words in question: pseudo-spatial calculus.

I could write about a video I almost posted here, now, instead. Yes, playing one of the greatest songs of all time, And You and I, live. And – they’re all wearing capes!

I could write about the greatest rock band in the world, on the CD player behind me: King’s X. Are they even still together? They never found mainstream audience, and they really should have.

I could write about the seven-year-old boy in hot pursuit of my seven-year-old daughter, Little One. Bright red hair, eye glasses with the elastic band wrapped around his head, and he’s completely utterly fearless. I mean, I’m walking Little One to school a few weeks ago and he comes bustling up, moves past me, and maneuvers himself between me and her. The scowl on my face does nothing to discourage his interest in my daughter.

I could write about the latest desire of my other daughter, three-year-old Patch: to be married to E. T. What’ll be the best thing about the wedding? “He’ll say my dress is beautiful,” she says shyly.

I could write about the Civil War odyssey I’m on, and all the synchronous symmetries popping up. For instance, this afternoon I read of the trial of Henry Wirz, the commandant of the notorious Andersonville prison. The Confederate officer, the only man executed for war crimes in the aftermath of the Civil War, had his military tribunal officiated by General Lew Wallace – the man who would later write my favorite religious novel, Ben Hur.

I could write about how I foiled the chipmunks (“chunks” as Patch calls them) excavating their catacombs beneath the walkway to my porch. I mean, the bricks were about to collapse a foot downward the next time a mailman with any degree of girth trod upon them. Father-in-law went to Home Depot and bought a gallon of cement, which I properly mixed and poured into the tunnels with vengeance. I am now an apprentice mason. Don’t tell Father Jim at church.

I could write about a lot of things, but I just can’t decide which one …