Unprimed Pump

I keep making the blunder of trying to write about serious, real-world issues. There are a lot of serious real world issues, and I do have thoughts I want to convey, but I get angry and then my composition skills get jammed like an old mechanical typewriter.

There’s a classic notion in cooking crepes and various other pan-fried goods that you have to prime the pan or (as some outrageously French chef suggests — Jacques Torres, I think — get the pan in the mood). This is to say the first crepe of the batch will uneven and asymmetrical, but they clean up pretty quickly after that. (Dogs are handy when the cook doesn’t want to eat the pre-mood crepe(s) himself.)

This is the purpose by which I need to write about lighter, fun, sometimes silly things, such as Agatha Christie murder mysteries, or recent Beeb versions thereof. In my case I have to prime the word-pump to a pretty strong and consistent output before I’m ready to talk about nuclear war, or the Holocaust, or how crappy our nation’s law enforcement agencies are getting at performing their alleged duties (though they seem to be doing well enough at not getting fired or disbanded.)

All the crap from last week is still affecting me, as is a lack of sweetheart-time this weekend. (We got to see each other last weekend, so I’m not as piney as I could be.)

I’m still behind by a post, and it’d be sweet if I can write another one today. At the same time, I’m trying to get chores done, and a team Borderlands 2 game may present itself.

But if not today, then tomorrow is writing group.

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