Recently, I woke in the middle of the night and needed to get some water. Incidentally, I needed to let water as well. This happens on occasion and of late has happened quite a bit. Having just gone to the bathroom I went to the kitchen and put my glass under the faucet and turned the handle.

No water.

I tried the hot water handle, no water there either. Then I tried the cold water. I found this quite perplexing as I’d just washed my hands in the bathroom, and there was water. I wondered if, perhaps, the water had just been shut off for some reason. In the middle of the night? Nonsense. Yet, my mind began to think of such things. I went back to the bathroom and the water worked perfectly fine there.

Back to the kitchen and this time, water. I have no idea why this happened, though I suspect it may have had something to do with pressure in the pipes or something like that. Perhaps running water in the bathroom fixed it?

And, being me, I began to wax philosophic about the whole thing. On some days, I couldn’t have an idea to save my life. There are no creative urges on such days, nothing to write, nothing to say. Just a blank stare at life, where I take it all in. Much like Werner Herzog’s camera work in many of his films, and perhaps this is one of the things I love most about his work.

Perhaps it’s entirely natural and necessary for these fallow periods to occur, much like the water in the pipes. For all I know, there is some small time each night when there is no water. Only this is the first time I’ve been there at the correct time to notice it.


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