Block Party

So where was I?

Oh yes.

Writing a blog.

Nearly two weeks ago.

Unfortunately it’s been that long since I hit the giant publish button at sirbacon123.com.

And boy have I really missed it.

Forget reading and arithmetic.

Writing is my favorite of the big three.

I could blame it on a bunch of things.

The holidays.

The kids winter break.

The this.

The that.

And true, all of those things have chipped in.

But the real truth is that for the last few weeks I’ve been living right in the heart of Writer’s Block.

At this very second, there are close to a dozen blogs just sitting on my desktop.

A dozen unfinished blogs.

Unfinished being the key word.

Blogs about my TiVo.

Blogs about Howard Stern.

Blogs about the Dollar Store.

The Vacuum Store.

The game of telephone.

Osama Bin Laden.

Do you see any connections there?

You do?

I don’t.

Right now I have more half-empty thoughts going through my head than Paris Hilton.

And that’s saying something.

As the great philosopher Bruce once said, I’ve got 57 channels.

And nothin’s on.

This is hardly the first time that I haven’t been able to complete a thought.

But it is the first time in a while.

And to be honest, it’s got me a bit freaked out.

After all, I am nothing without my words.

Even if I don’t punctuate them properly.

This little outlet called Sir Bacon has been a paradise for me.

Not always paradise.

But A paradise.

A place to disappear for a while.

A place to release the inner me.

A place to let it all go.

Everybody needs one of those.

For some it’s a bar.

Or a pool hall.

Or a Golden Corral .

For me, it’s my writing.

And unfortunately it’s been 12 whole days since I wrote my last blog.

Better known as The 12 days of Blisslessness.

I could blame it on a lack of time.

But that would be a lie.

I could blame it on a lack of stories.

Lie.

I guess I could blame it just on.... IT.

After all, IT happens.

And lately IT has been happening to me.

But just 347 words into this here blog, I can feel the blood in my fingers again.

And that’s a good feeling.

My writing is my castle.

And with the new year now here, I’m looking forward to a new beginning.

Another new beginning.

With new stories.

And new readers.

And new words.

Isn’t that why we all make new year’s resolutions?

Well this time my resolution is to start writing again.

NOW!

Do not fear Bacon lovers.

I still have a lot to say.

I just haven’t been able to say it.

A few days ago I tried writing about a weird dream I had.

A real dream.

Real weird.

I made it to 219 words.

Then stopped.

Then I tried writing about a weird story I heard.

A true story.

About a BIGTIME star athlete.

Who recently got in a plane crash.

But he doesn’t want anyone to know.

So nobody knows.

Except for me.

And the person that told me.

And the person who told him.

But I couldn’t find the right way to seal that story.

Or if that was even the right story to seal.

So I didn’t.

New Year’s Day marked the beginning of the third year of Sir Bacon.

280 blogs so far.

Probably an average of 650 words per blog.

My calculator app just told me that 182,000 words.

Catcher In the Rye has less than half of that.

And it took J.D. Salinger nine years to write that book.

12 days is nothing.

It’s good to be home.

Broken News

There are places you want to be.

And times you don’t want to be there.

I can’t imagine being in New York on September 11, 2001.

Or in Littleton, Colorado on April 20, 1999.

Or anywhere near Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941.

Tonight I am in my hotel room.

About 15 miles from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

The night we all learned Osama Bin Laden is dead.

A night no human will forget anytime soon.

A night we have all been waiting for.

A night many of us thought would never come.

It was just this afternoon our group visited the Pentagon Memorial.

Feet away from where American Airlines Flight 77 hit the building.

And now the news that the person responsible for that attack is gone.

It’s pretty amazing.

Surreal.

Knowing that I was in DC, my friends were texting me by the bushel.

My favorite text said that Donald Trump was demanding Osama's death certificate.

The reaction from inside The White House was historic.

The reaction from just outside The White House was beyond words.

If I didn’t have to be an alert chaperone in just a few hours, I would probably be there.

If I had a car, I know I would be there.

But the good news is I will touring inside that White House later this week.

At least that was the plan.

It’s been the plan for a few months.

When we first got the approval.

Um, so much for those best laid plans.

I’m guessing that all changed tonight.

Don’t get me wrong, this breaking news is beyond more important than any single stop on our tour. 

But selfishly I wish this news would’ve come out after our visit.

This is just a guess.

But my guess is The Obamas won’t be entertaining any visitors this week.

Like everyone else in this great country of ours, I will never forget where I was on the morning of 9/11.

I got a call at home that morning.

Very early that morning at my home in California.

My friend Erik said turn on the TV.

I said what channel.

He said it doesn’t matter.

I will also never forget where I was when we got this news.

Standing outside the elevator on the 4th floor of our hotel.

Just miles from the West Wing.

Literally seconds earlier I had checked to see if President Obama would be at the White House this week.

And I had just learned that answer was yes.

Then within seconds one of the chaperones told us to turn on CNN.

Now we all know why.

I’m still hoping we get that chance to visit The White House.

But just being in Washington DC this week is what we we all remember.

Forever.