There is no hidden message here, but I LOVE you for looking!
I should be working, but instead I am alive.I am alive in Birmingham, Alabama to be exact which is very much an oxymoron. In Birmingham, the radio stations in particular are an exercise in... what exactly is the word for the opposite of imagination? Anyway, those of us who drive around without satellite radio or the forethought to burn a few groovy CDs have two choices: die inside a little more or constantly switch the station. Which often leaves me listening to NPR which has, on occasion, interesting programming. From 9-11 Monday through Friday for instance, there is a program on called The Diane Rehm Show. Diane Rehm seems to be a delightful, intelligent and engaging person and on occasion I have found the subjects she discusses interesting. But she talks in a slow grating difficult to listen to voice that is like fingernails on the blackboard to my ears. In 1998 she was diagnosed with spasmodic dysphonia, a neurological condition that causes strained, difficult speech. Today the discussion was, perhaps ironically, about birdcalls. Not exactly a subject I'm dying to learn more about. But I didn't change the station. I just listened and instead of thinking about birdcalls, I thought about her voice. I hate her voice. It's a diabolical assault on my ears. The trip in my car was brief and I didn't learn much about birdcalls. I did learn that grackles are more or less thugs to other birds though. It's probably a good idea that someone in my condition (a deeply caring, misanthropic, post-neo-luddite, schizoleptic with tendencies of pointlessness) ask themselves occasionally while writing what their point is exactly. And to be truthful, I'm not sure I have one (hence the tendencies of pointlessness). But I have decided that lackination might be a good word for the opposite of imagination since there doesn't seem to be one already. And maybe the point is just that I am alive. Maybe this is just my birdcall. Who can say?
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