BRAINSTORM

Malden Public Library, Saturday, 3:27 pm.

My attempt to procrastinate in pursuit of producing the Great Novel of All Time--or at least a decent one-page essay--has failed. I arrived at the library at 2:55, expecting to easily waste an hour analyzing, recording, and bemoaning comparative data pertaining to my dubious performance in this morning's race.

Alas, I only managed to waste ten minutes, because after I entered my online query for race results I discovered that the website was "NOT RESPONDING."

I eked out another 22 minutes of wasted time--that is, between 3:05 and 3:27--fiddling with fifty font choices, intermittently clicking to and fro RACEWIRE, which stubbornly persists--as depicted by its iconic pair of interlocking gears--*spinning its wheels*: "NOT RESPONDING."

Just as my blankety-blank brain stubbornly persists in spinning its own useless wheels: "NOT RESPONDING."

And so, here I sit, now 4:29pm, an hour since I began this piece, and an hour-and-a-half into my 2-hour-maximum session. The computer has kindly granted me three 15-minute extensions over the original hour allocated; assuming six people don't suddenly rush the workstations in the next 5 minutes, I'll soon be granted my final 15 minutes--which just happened.

With just 15 minutes to go, I better begin to brainstorm. I sure don't want to sign off--rather, get kicked off--with nothing to show for today's (lack of) effort. But first a digression to the omniscient GOOGLE dictionary. I'm curious as to--OOPS: just got my 5-minute warning--the derivation and usage of the term brainstorm:

1. a spontaneous group discussion to produce ideas and ways of solving problems.
a sudden clever idea.

2. a moment in which one is suddenly unable to think clearly or act sensibly.

Well--looks like my brainstorm exemplifies sense #2. Which is just as well, because I just got my 1-minute warni



https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/spin-your-wheels
*spin your wheels... to use a lot of effort without achieving anything: I sat in front of the computer all night trying to write, but I felt like I was just spinning my wheels. (Definition of "spin your wheels" from the Cambridge Academic Content Dictionary Cambridge University Press) ...

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AVOID THE VOID

Melrose Public Library, Thursday, 2:05pm.

I began this piece with the intent of ...well, actually without any intent whatsoever. Meaning, having absolutely no glimmer of an idea in mind, I decided to brave the void to see what might ensue. Which prompted the last word of my title. From which I couldn't resist the wordplay: Avoid the Void.

With that working title, I set out, with much trepidation, to fulfill its daunting assignment: Develop a how-to manual for fellow fallow writers. The blocked leading the blocked! Avoid the Void: How clever--which wit has come back to bite me by half.

What better stalling tactic than to go a'GOOGLing. Let the dictionary dictate the introduction: i.e. Step 1) Define your terms.

GOOGLE's definition for the noun "void": a completely empty space. Which phrase comprises a redundant adverb (completely) prefacing a redundant adjective (empty) prefacing space.

Big time BINGO! Thanks GOOGLE. Noting the triple-redundancy of your definition, I forthwith recast my task as one of amusement more than of instruction. That is, my mission is to note and point out the inadvertent and unwitting usage and employment of redundantly extraneous and utterly unnecessary modifiers and descriptors, including qualifying adjectives and adverbial words, along with any and all other needlessly superfluous clauses and excessively repetitive phrases, such as I most strongly and strenuously strive to eschew and avoid completely at all times and costs in my own scrupulously meticulous fictional novels and actual factual true works of nonfiction--although admittedly, given the always and ever-present, all-too-tantalizing ultimate temptation to try and attempt multi-syllabic all-inclusive overblown and overarching artistries of alliteration, the pompous monstrosities spewed in service thereof trump concision each and every single time.

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GENIUS ELUDES ME

Melrose Public Library, Monday, 5:45pm.

Sometime circa seven this morning, drifting pleasantly in and out of sleep, I was graced with a brilliant theme for today's piece.

Normally, I'd have rushed here right after lunch, eager to create my masterpiece pending.
Instead, as you can see from the time-stamp, it's close to supper time that I begin.

Why the delay: Did something unforeseen come up?

Quite the converse: Something foreseen did not come up. Meaning: I'll be damned if I can recall what was that ever-so-clever idea that, alas, ghosted me upon my awakening.

A bounty of wisdom and a bundle of wit whisked themselves away. Nary a wisp remains. Perhaps tomorrow morning's demi-dreams will summon their wiser and wittier fellows. If so, you can be sure I won't let them give me the slip. Pad and pen by my pillow are at the ready!

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DITTO

Melrose Public Library, Tuesday, 5:35pm.

Twenty-three hours and fifty minutes since the start of yesterday's pathetic piece that bemoaned the passing of a barely-born brainstorm.

Today's weather report: The storm has regrouped and unleashed its wrath upon me for misrepresentation. The let-down of last evening has been superseded by today's sad tidings: That late-great idea that had whirled away has wended its way back to my brain. Ergo: It is no longer late (as in dead). Alas: It is no longer--indeed, it never was--(even close to) great.

It is trivial. Trite. Insipid. How I wish that the useless creature hadn't returned from the dead. I'd have much preferred to be haunted by the ghost of genius passed then be taunted by the gremlin of mediocrity.

So mortified am I that I shall spare you the insubstantial facets of my faux brilliant gem. "Eminently forgettable" indeed--How I wish I could get the damn thing out of my mind!

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WORD SALAD

Melrose Public Library, Thursday, 4:40 pm.

Given that my grey matter has gone offline for the evening, I must content to amuse myself with mindless nonsense. Indulge me, please, my convolutions.

How about a word salad? An everything-plus-the-kitchen-sink-and-then-some concoction. No recipe required--indeed, creating a word salad by recipe would be oxymoronic.

To get started, throw in a loose association of nouns, adjectives, and adverbs at your whim. (Potential rhymes and alliterations are encouraged.)Toss thoroughly to ensure that meaningful connections are dispersed. Next, spew the resulting Loghorrea at unsuspecting passersby, whose expressions of utter incomprehension will confirm your dubious creation: i.e. a state of total confusion. Finally, put your muddle in writing and behold!--a repulsive puddle of Graphorrea.

An example of which I'll spare your setting foot in.

WIKIPEDIA
Word salad may describe a symptom of neurological or psychiatric conditions in which a person attempts to communicate an idea, but words and phrases that may appear to be random and unrelated come out in an incoherent sequence instead. Often, the person is unaware that he or she did not make sense. It appears in people with dementia and schizophrenia, [2] as well as after anoxic brain injury. Clang associations are especially characteristic of mania, as seen in bipolar disorder, as a somewhat more severe variation of flight of ideas. In extreme mania, the patient's speech may become incoherent, with associations markedly loosened, thus presenting as a veritable word salad.

It may be present as:
...Clanging, a speech pattern that follows rhyming and other sound associations rather than meaning
...Graphorrhea, a written version of word salad that is more rarely seen than logorrhea in people with schizophrenia.[3]
...Logorrhea, a mental condition characterized by excessive talking (incoherent and compulsive)
...Receptive aphasia[4]
...Schizophasia, a mental condition characterized by incoherent babbling (compulsive or intentional, but nonsensical)

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LONG LIVE LONG-LIVED

Here's one more to toss into the word salad: Long-Lived.

A familiar ingredient; we all know how to use it, but how to pronounce it?

Seems a stupid question (yes, there is such a thing); Certainly, I've never heard it pronounced any other way than the obvious: long (rhymes with song) and lived (as in the opposite of died).

Indeed, that is how nearly everyone pronounces the term these days; originally--literally, per its origin (etymology) from the noun life--there is a corresponding long-i (eye) in long-lived.

A ditty in honor to these shifty-eyes: (Sing to a silly tune of your choice)
Long-eyed long-lived
Lived long, then died
Weep not; it is survived
By short-eyed (to be glib)
Long live long-lived!


https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/long-lived
Adjective[edit]
long-lived
Having a long lifespan; surviving for a long period of time.
The pronunciation... (rhyming with hived) is more consistent with the etymology (since the term comes from the noun life rather than the verb live), and was formerly more common; however, the pronunciation.... (the second syllable pronounced as the verb lived) is more common today.

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FLATLINED

Melrose Public Library: 5:45 PM. One hour till rescue.

59 minutes to go, after having just spent one to inquire as to whether flatlined is hyphenated (no? yes? NO; I'd had it right the first time.)

I picked Flatlined--per my implication: brain-dead--as a droll title for this latest entry in my Writer's Block folder. Whenever my imagination section overstays its lunch hour, I challenge myself to a staring contest with a blank Word document. Since I am never at a loss for words, I start spewing and see what sticks. I scrape off the pretentious gunk; I do not aspire to be the literary equivalent of Jackson Pollack, whose artistic abilities rival that of Team Chimpanzee-and-Service-Dog.

Digression complete: 30 minutes down, 30 to go.

Flatlined. Inappropriately flippant. Though perhaps uninspired at the moment, I am far from literal brain-death. I cringe at my insensitivity, as I consider a woman who, as I write, verges on brain-death--as consequential to death in general.

She's nobody I know. Nicole is the daughter of my close friend Marie. Aged 47, Nicole suffered a massive heart attack 16 days ago. Comatose ever since, Nicole is not expected to survive.

All I can do is "be there"--how lame that sounds--for Marie, as she tries to "be there"--even lamer--for a child who doesn't know she is.

And so, with 15 minutes left on my clock, I sign off: Chuck has come for me ahead of time. Good thing: I am thus spared further thought of one who, at 47, is soon to be "come for" --way, way, ahead of time.

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IN SEARCH OF...

I've just finished a book called "Big Magic" by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of best-seller "Eat, Pray, Love". She quite literally believes ideas to be actual entities composed of some sort of energy. She insists that every idea is on the hunt for a human collaborator to enable it to realize its potential. Accordingly, I've drafted this sample ad for the "Personals" page:

Attractive idea seeking kindred spirit: male, female, or transgender of any sexual orientation and marital status; age, appearance, and race are irrelevant. If you enjoy a creative challenge, if you are persistent and have a high tolerance for frustration, if you are disciplined and unafraid of hard work, contact me ASAP. I can be reached at Sky High, Unlimited; out-of-the-Box # 8-sideways; Anyplace, Anywhere; 44444-ever. Don't delay; first come, first served. Hope to hear from you. Together we can make a masterpiece (or at least have a helluva time trying, and an interesting ride, regardless).