Charles Jensen | Writer

: in which all I want to do is read books, except I have no attention span for books and so I read blogs.

: in which all the clever blog posts I publish in my head never make it onto the internet, and so all of you, you poor saps, live in a sad shadow world deprived of my witticisms and incisive views on life.

: in which all I want is mail or its homophones.

: in which I want to be done with thinking about publishing anything ever again.

: in which I create a fantasy world wherein I invent a pill to offset rejection, which results in uncontrollable shivering, for which I create a pill that creates a feeling of constant and total rejection to offset the shivers.

: in which there are no penguins, not a single one, not ever again, and I wonder about them.

: in which I wake up each morning feeling giddy and shocked to be waking up. What am I dreaming about? Nothing I am allowed to take with me into the day, it seems.

: in which my apartment maintains a steady state of cleanliness enviable by God.

: in which I am Kelly Clarkson on acoustic guitar.

: in which I hope I write books people end up caring about. And I’m talking about non-relatives here.

: in which all the poems I write about Matthew Shepard are really about losing your love.

: in which the photos only pretend to smile back.

: in which I am exhausted each afternoon after lunch, and sickened by what I have eaten, which is usually junky or fatty or full of preservatives, unless it’s something I’ve brought from home, in which case I am in a state in which I am the envy of all my office.

: in which I’m holding out for a hero.

: in which I’m the hero I could be and not the dog I was.

: in which something matters. Something is crucial. Why bother with all this non-essential? Why bother with _____?