“Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “ing.” The first word of your post must end in the letters “ing.” Extra points if the final word of the post does too. Enjoy!”

Reading blogs and trying to catch up. I will never catch up. My email, dedicated to receiving notices of new posts by blogs I follow, is ballooning as if it had just finished the pie and various dessert servings of a large Thanksgiving dinner. It undoes its belt and the top button of its pants but the bloat continues, another bite of that Oreo pumpkin delight is calling.  I feel guilty missing posts. I feel guilty skimming posts to be able to get through the posts I want to read. Not only that, but I am reading because what I actually want to be doing is something creative, like writing a poem or a short story, or driving through the countryside taking pictures even though it is gray and overcast.

My muse, only so recently unhibernated is absent. So I make up words. Hanging out in Maslow’s lower rung—hard scrabbling in the Muladhara—seems to be an eviction notice for my muse. Other people’s muses aren’t so squeamish and actually seem to buck up under similar circumstances but mine hightails it for the nearest coffee bar to wait out the sturm und drang.

Since the muse is missing, I tell the walls that I could be out taking photographs, later to be used as inspiration for paintings that never happen since that goddess left for a guitar player named Leon who was headed for Chillicothe last anyone heard. My ancient digital camera needs its batteries recharged. Its batteries are so old they don’t hold any reliable juice. Some day I will be able to replace them, but damn that Maslow, he didn’t include lithium batteries in the low end of the pyramid. There’s always my smart phone that has been dumb for so long, no longer a phone, but an extension of my wifi network. I bought it for its camera, but I still haven’t figured out how to use it to get the pictures I want. I still haven’t figured out how to get them even in focus a majority of the time.

Besides, I’m tired. I might be whining. I think I’m whining. It is cold out. I need real shoes. It is cold in the apartment. I have a nice quilt on the bed. There might be something new on Hulu or Netflix. I want to be writing

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