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Here I sit at the keyboard, and just like sitting on the commode while acutely constipated, nothing's coming out.

Totally blocked up. I don't know what to write about and I've no ambition at all. I don't want to write about work all of the time, but that's what's on my mind. It will be on my mind until I get out of there.

The one story that I wish I could be writing right now is the one about how great it feels to be free once again. But alas, it is not yet so.

Okay, enough of that now. There's got to be something positive to write about. Right?

My next-door-neighbor, Trog, called me at work Friday night and asked me to stop by at his co-worker's house for a drink. It was on my way home, so when I was finished with work, I did just that. His friend Branden had an Ovation acoustic bass-guitar which he let me play. After playing along with Black Sabbath for a while, I concluded two things:

1. That's a really nice guitar.

2. I'm really out of practice.

I went to an opening of an art exhibit with Julie last night. Our friend Mike was one of six exhibitors included in the gallery's May showing, and he sent us an invitation.

I couldn't see much in the dimly lit gallery, but the wine was good.

I also got to see B.J. again. He is the one who gave me the keyboard which I wrote about smashing with a hammer in my February 8 column. It was fun to tell him what had come of that keyboard; he agreed that it went to good use.

Sadly enough, Those are the highlights of my week. Sorry for being so ... uh, dry, but tune in next week when hopefully my words again will be flowing.