vaneramos | Nonsense writing

The road home from Toronto: Sideroad 20 at noon on Monday

Sometimes sense won't come out. I'll sit down to write my morning pages and find I have nothing to say. Or I'll write two paragraph, then run out. Or I'll have something serious on my mind but not the patience to articulate it. So I'll just write strings of nonsense words.

Parachute Maracaibo destiny pill incredulous document dogma dalmatian. Tremulous Voldemort persuasion secondary dastardly infusion narcissus castrate taxidermy mastication superfluous.

I've had many such mornings lately. This morning I was agitated. No concentration.

I had an appointment with Keith, the social worker. Then I had to come home to meet the refrigerator repairman. It's not defrosting. Cold air from the freezer is spreading ice down the back wall of the fridge. He said it won't fix. He wants to replace it.

Now we have to get the upstairs neighbours to clear their junk out of the hall so we can move refrigerators in and out. The landlord spoke to them this afternoon. They said they would do it this evening.

They haven't. I know they won't. This is pissing me off.

Nineteen more words: tear penetrate inscribe vernacular caustic morbid dining tendency crush Caligula pipsqueak. Sometimes nonsense says it all.