Sunday 9:10 a.m.
I’m sitting here on a Sunday morning, laptop in my — well, lap, as it should be — watching “CBS News Sunday Morning,” as I usually do, and trying to think about something to write about, and …
… I can’t think of anything to write about.
It happens. You go hours, and even days, without a single thought of anything that would remotely resemble something worth writing about.
Today I’m there.
You would think that police work would serve as a target-rich environment for “humorous fodder,” a term that sounded much better before I actually wrote it down. But, actually, “dumb crooks” stories are out there, all over the Internet, for us all to see. I’ll pass on dumb crooks today.
Now that I’m into this by a few paragraphs, I still could not see a story on the horizon. So I started watching the TV again. I watched the “Sunday Morning” piece on Dave Matthews Band. I like them.
Maybe I should write about them. Maybe I should listen to their new album and review it. There are, after all, music-review writers. I gave it a shot.
“The Dave Matthews band is good. I like the drummer. He’s good. I like drums. If I had any musical talent, which I don’t, I would like to play the drums. Drums are very cool.”
Who the heck writes about music? What was I thinking? You either like it or you don’t. Wait. I think you get free tickets to concerts if you write about it. Sw-e-e-e-t!
I decided to do some research so I looked up a music critic’s review. The author reviews a group named Veckatimest.
“The neo-classical precision of Grizzly Bear’s music — the feeling that its choral harmonies, woozy orchestrations, and slippery waltz signatures aren’t just written, but composed — has only grown more pronounced since Yellow House, but somehow that meticulousness never becomes lifelessness.
“Veckatimest was named after an unpopulated island, but it’s teeming with life, mystery, and surprise — the biggest of which may be its potential for crossover success.”
Not once did he mention the drums. And nothing at all about this band was remotely funny. I’ll pay for the concert tickets.
I was back to nothing. The “Jefferson Gold Two-Dollar Bill” commercial was on TV.
“Demand is overwhelming. Order yours for just twelve-ninety-five.” The man said, standing there, holding a two-dollar bill with two security guards standing behind him trying not to laugh.
Do they have critics for commercials?
I pulled up my e-mail. First e-mail read: “Steve, I got pulled over yesterday. I got a ticket. Don’t you guys have anything else to do?”
I closed out my e-mail.
Okay, it’s about 10:45 and I’m now really, really thinking hard about something to write about.
Heck with it. I put on the earphones and cut the grass. Listened to Dave Matthews in the front yard and Styx in the backyard. Styx has a good drummer, too. Drums are cool.