Lately I've been asked more than once the weighted "what's up?" — like the kind you ask somebody you haven't seen in awhile, which has happened fairly frequently these past few weeks thanks to such and such events. I never really know how to respond to this question, like I never really know how else to answer the concerned "how are you?" The weighted, concerned are no different from the regular ol' business of Marco! [pause] Polo!: What's up? Not much. How are you? Alright.
But with these people you haven't seen in awhile, their expectant faces scream out: NEWS! GIMME! Momentous stuff, that newsboys with those darling caps will yell out about. Not 'not much' and 'alright.' Because then they have to think about something else to talk about.
But life is not so much big moments, at least right now. It's more that sort of unnoticeable, incremental change thing. Like you realize you just ate a whole chocolate cake. Or the recycling has suffocated the cat. Little by little. All of a sudden it's now and you think, how the hell did that happen? Oh, inexorable time, boats against the current and all that.
Still, I can't really rid myself of the feeling that I should be making moments, concentrating all my powers on doing something "constructive" or putting my life "in order" or some crap like that — no matter that I know that life will never really be in a,b,c order and I will never really be constructive, unless I hammer some nails or something (forgive). Why am I waiting for something to magically pop up in my head, some epiphanous moment which will send me trundling down whatever rocky path and I will be able to answer to What's up? Hey, look at me trundle! It's not happening. I want the gum off my shoe and some of the cotton out of my brain, even if life's b-a-c, as long as it's not apbiawpoeifopwaefuvvvo. How are you? Well, do you have a keyboard I can mash?
Anyway, in truth, I spend most of my time thinking about what's for dinner. That's really the big question. The thinker, the philosopher, c'est moi.