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So...
I’ve spent the last three days trying desperately to think of anything to write. Accordingly, the last 72 hours the voice in my brain has just been that static noise from VCR/TV antenna-rejection fame.
Because honestly, I don’t think there’s anything more for me to talk about that hasn’t been talked about already? That’s it, pack up, we’ve covered it all. Stop reading. Go away. Go on, shoo, get!
If you missed it and want to get existential, there’s this, I suppose... But after that, there’s not any more “state of all this *gestures vaguely at Montlake and the world*” takes to type. And there’s certainly no takes to be had about on-field stuff, since that feels roughly like remarking on the weather while being torn limb-from-limb by a hammerhead shark.
Anyways, I just wrote the word “shark,” then walked away for an hour, and just now returned to this screen shocked that this week’s Stuff and Shenanigans didn’t complete itself in my absence. Shucks.
Why do we have to say any words? Certainly there are some scenarios where everybody’s said all the thoughts that could be had, and then we can just agree “Okay, we’ve said all the takes. We’re done. Now we’re free from having to have takes and can just sit here in silence”? And if those scenarios exist, certainly this is one of them? I mean, we’re all pretty much sitting here thinking the same thing, and have been for a hot minute.
In Which Gabey Doesn’t Have Anything Else To Add To The Conversation
Aw, dang — just left again for 20 minutes, read some New York Times profile on Television’s Matthew Rhys attempting to restore a wooden boat, and was hoping once more this would finish writing itself of its own accord.
Okay, well, in the absence of any more takes to be had — and being kinda over misery poems at the moment — let’s just start this off with things that will make you happier.
Like this:
Or this:
Or, cover your face holes because this will make your brain explode from happiness, and that gray matter’s gotta escape somewhere:
Or maybe you’re someone who’s not into innocent, adorable baby animals who are only capable of bringing you joy (even if that’s only because they don’t know how to run it on 4th and 4 out of 22 personnel). If you fall under that category I will assume you’re a terrorist, but ya know what, we’re all different — some of you might like to do terrorism, I personally am not a fan. “Agree to disagree” as they say.
In that case, might I provide you with some serotonin of the “satisfying nature-y shit” variety:
Or might I suggest a personal favorite for lowering your blood pressure, complete with being seasonally relevant:
All this because I have no more new thoughts, so the only thing that makes sense by my reckoning is trying to find some good brain chemicals elsewhere.
If you too would like to make your brain feel better than it does thanks to the empty void that is *gestures once more to Husky Stadium*, might I suggest:
- Kittens
- Puppies
- Kittens who think they’re puppies
- Kittens and puppies being friends
- Staying hydrated by drinking at least 3-4 liters of water per day
- Drugs
- Drinking more water to get your bowels moving after all those drugs
- Appreciating just how much Friday Night Lights’ Jesse Plemons has grown up since 2006
- Having a productive conversation with your therapist about how the 1981 Disney movie Fox and The Hound ruined your childhood
- Having a productive conversation with your therapist about how the Washington Huskies miiiiiight be ruining your adulthood
- Having a productive conversation with your therapist about how, actually, maybe all sports are ruining your adulthood?
- Sending thank you notes to Washington’s softball and volleyball teams for having pride and kicking ass
- Rewatching this
- And this
- Getting more fiber in your diet
- The Velvet Underground’s 1967 classic Andy Warhol album
- Skipping “Black Angel’s Death Song” from The Velvet Underground’s classic Andy Warhol album because it is viscerally horrifying
- Deleting your Facebook
- A nice hot cup of rooibos tea
- The IT Crowd
- Celtic ballads
- Kittens and stoats becoming friends
- Rick Steves
- Rick Steves and kittens becoming friends
- Stroopwaffels
- The calming presence of Irish chef Rory O’Connell
- This wholesome-ass bullshit
- The sound of waves crashing on a beach
- The fact that this list will eventually end
- Kittens frolicking in meadows
- That white static noise on the Stevens Pass backside by the power lines
- Skating on a lake at night while it snows
- Xanax
In other words, I’ve sent out all my takes to the universe already. See you next week, when hopefully something will have happened between now and then about which I can have a take.
Until then, do good things and don’t do bad things please.