I think boredom (or Boredom, if we think of it as an allegorical figure and if we do then it isn’t wearing a robe like Honor but, appropriately enough, pajamas) is under-valued. I’m not a fan of social media, anyway, and I prefer to keep my big, empty head as empty as possible. Counting my friends every day doesn’t deepen the mystery of existence for me. But, oddly enough, boredom does. To me, boredom doesn’t mean apathetic or numb. It’s a weirdly active state that usually arrives in slippers carrying a day-old newspaper. Boredom is curiously inviting. “Relax, pal,” Boredom says. “Don’t turn on the TV or pick up another book. Stare out the window. Drool if you want to.” Boredom is a ouija board without the planchette, a clock with no cord or batteries. Boredom is all potential. And an unlikely balm to the tender and impaired parts of ourselves that need it the most.
P.S. On or around the first of the month I post a new poem on my website. Check it out in a few days. http://ronkoertge.com/rons-books/