BLAH-BLAH-BLAH

I'm having a hard time finding something I want to write about. Maybe its because I got too much stuff I don't want to write about, like my poor sister who has moved back from San Diego and she is so horribly depressed and wants to just curl up and fall asleep and hopefully never wake up. I know that's how she feels because I've felt that way before. I try to get her to hook up with old friends and she doesn't want to because she has gained a few pounds. I even say why don't you look at your Facebook and see who wants to see you  (I had all her friends post to her wall, they are all dying to see her) but she goes to pieces how she can't stand to look at herself.
No, I really don't want to write about all that.

Or my son, who is back in rehab again. I guess this makes about 4 trips this last 12 months. I never really wrote about it much, because if XMrs. Bulletholes knew I was writing about it she would crawl right up my ass. I mean, back when he was selling pot I wrote a really hilarious piece about that and they made me take it down. I'll tell you a great conversation I had with him a while back though.
I said- 'I sure do wish you had wanted to be a Doctor or Lawyer or something"
And he fired right back- "Yeah Dad, I was wishing the same thing about you."
That's really a great answer.
So I don't really know what else to say about that.

Then on my trip to San Diego I saw the Aircraft Carrier Midway, and I thought I could write about that, but when I looked it up it was all kind of dull and boring and the most interesting part was how the 1970 retrofit went way over budget. Or about these pretty trees they have all over San Diego called Jacaranda trees.
None of it seems too worthwhile right now.

Then I thought maybe I'd write about the Union General known as the "Rock of Chickamauga" and how his southern family turned his picture on the wall over backwards when he joined the Union. Southerners are very funny about that war.

I see tomorrow is the anniversary of the production of first loaf of sliced bread. I have that to look forward to. And the Newspaper I was writing for? I've lost interest in doing stories. They keep jerking off my titles and putting up really mundane banal titles that either try to explain the story, or else give away the ending.

At any rate, I haven't felt like putting my back into anything for a while now. It seems like if something is going to take me more than five minutes to do, I just don't want any part of it. I don't even feel like hitting the "Spellcheck" button.
What do you call that?