Day 10/Inconsequential Question #2: What were those red wax lips made of?! Or the wax bottles we'd bite the top off of and then suck out half a teaspoon of God knows what? The black waxy mustaches we'd have to later peel off our molars? Why were we allowed to put these things in our mouths?

Day 9: Thinking about nothing leaves space to contemplate burning inconsequential questions. You know those old cartoon depictions of hobos? With their bundles swinging from a stick behind them? What was that about? Couldn't they just sling it on like a shoulder bag? Wasn't the stick uncomfortable?

Day 5: After spending so much time constantly thinking about things so obviously and enormously important, this period of thinking about nothing much is actually kind of peaceful. Restful. A kind of vacant floaty feeling that stays just this side of unease and blank wall depression.

Day 2: And I'm thinking...nothing. For once, I have no thought, no words, no quip, no comeback, no inspiration, no comment, no observation, no quote, no prayer, no plea, no brainstorm, no fight, no challenge. Just dead space. I'll give it another 24 hours.