Midnight Babbling

It is approximately 10:36 in the evening. The windows are open allowing cool air and the sound of crickets into my room. A fan blows in the distance: a long ten foot walk made even longer by the darkness that surrounds me. A combination of such circumstances brought me to this point of desperation. I need to write.

Step one in the writing process worked itself out evidenced by my presence at the computer. Man, it feels good. I haven’t written in a long time and my fingers have only itched more for this key pad the longer I’ve been away from it. But step two still awaits my attention. I don’t know what to write.

Though it may be an act of sin on my part, I could continue to produce nonsense. This fun use of literary talent requires no form of forethought. As a result, I might say something I would regret later. The alternative, though more tactful and skillful, is quickly becoming less attractive. I don’t have the patience or brain power for it, an excuse not exclusive to this particular hour.

I believe I have convinced myself to continue with meaningless words. It is easier, will satisfy my itchy fingers, and will get me into my warm soft bed much faster. Whether or not it will successfully draw you in and capture your attention is up to you and the length of your patience. As I see it, you won’t last this next paragraph.

While you have been reading this short post according to your reader’s clock, my writer’s clock has been ticking away. It is now 12:08 and I seem no closer to sleep then I was two hours ago. My unshaven beard hangs on my itching skin, sleep pulls at my eyelids willing them to shut completely, and yet my restless leg jumps around under this sad cluttered desk. To put it bluntly, I’m a mess. But you role your eyes looking at your watch which indicates one minute has been wasted. A minute you will never get back. I can’t do anything about that, however.

My decision to write this sad post and your decision to read what I have written are two entirely different matters. Mine is a result of dedication to writing and an inability to go to sleep, while yours is nothing more then simple boredom. Both are unintentional and yet totally inevitable. As some would say it, we both are a victim of God’s providence. But that is how it should be. We do what we do according to God’s ultimate plans.

Normally I would conclude my post with some over arching point. You might even think I have somehow attained one in the midst of this slosh of words. It would probably have something to do with God’s providence able to reveal itself in the kind of chaos that you and I create in our reader/writer relationship. Though that is an interesting and true idea, it does not apply right now. Yes, God providence does govern over chaotic times, but no, that is not my point. This post has strictly been nonsense. There are no hidden messages; no secret codes. This is just a tired, restless writer humoring his unintentional impulses gladly excepting that God intended it to be.

Good night.