On a normal day, when hit with a blank wall of topical import, I’d write about the absolute tyranny of the blank page – and then I’d launch into a detailed, completely deadpan review of a totally unremarkable household object – but that seems so wasteful.
I have no topics
An Unsolicited, Deeply Serious Review of My Left Shoe – I have no topics
Today, the universe offered zero inspiration. Not a single grand thought, high-minded idea, or quiet moment of poetic clarity crossed the wire. So, bound by the solemn duty to put words on paper, we are talking about my left shoe.
It is a standard sneaker, currently residing under the desk at a slight 45-degree angle. It has seen better days. The lace on the right side of this left shoe is precisely 1.5 inches longer than the lace on the left side, an asymmetry that has bothered me since late 2024, yet not enough to warrant re-lacing it.
Why the left shoe and not the right? Because the right shoe is currently executing its job without drawing attention to itself. The left shoe, however, has a single dried blade of grass wedged into the tread near the heel. How long has it been there? Where did it come from? It represents a voyage. A brief, forgotten excursion into a lawn, preserved in vulcanized rubber.
If this shoe could speak, it would probably complain about the floorboards. It would ask why we keep sitting at this desk when there are perfectly good trails outside that haven’t been walked today. And honestly, it would have a point.
Assessment: 7/10. Functional, slightly dusty, reliable in a crisis, excellent at keeping my left foot off the hardwood.
The dynamic DYI Phone Stand
That is the absolute peak of useless engineering: an object whose whole existence is defined by a job it physically cannot perform. It’s like a paper umbrella in a hurricane or a screen door on a submarine.
Here is the treatise that unused piece of plywood deserves today:
The Monument to Good Intentions – I have no topics
On the edge of the desk sits a sleek, hand-crafter wooden stand. To the uninitiated observer, it appears to be a modern piece of minimalist office ergonomics – a phone stand designed to keep notifications at eye level and promote a clutter-free workspace.
In reality, it is an instrument of pure chaos.
It was designed in an era when phones weighed as much as a deck of cards and possessed the footprint of a cracker. Today’s phones, however, are essentially slab-built glass bricks housing three massive camera lenses and a battery designed to power a small village. Place a modern phone onto this stand, and a slow-motion drama unfolds.
First comes the tilt. The stand gives a tiny, shuddering flex under the weight. Then comes the slide. As soon as a single notification vibrates, the phone doesn’t just rest – it performs a terrifying, backward trust-fall off the desk, taking a coffee mug and three stray paperclips down with it.
It cannot hold a phone. It is too light to act as a paperweight. It is too awkward to be a bookend. So it sits there, day after day, occupying prime desk real estate. It exists solely as a visual reminder of $12.99 spent in 2018 on an gadget that promised organization and delivered gravity-fed anxiety.
Yet, I cannot bring myself to throw it away. Because the moment I toss it into the bin, I will somehow find a tiny, weightless device that fits it perfectly, and I will spend twenty minutes searching the house for the stand I discarded.
Now that I’ve given it its fifteen minutes of fame, does it get to stay on the desk, or is it finally heading for the drawer of forgotten tech accessories?
This is silly. But I have nothing else…for days.
I have no topics
Popi sends…
Other Random Thoughts: Christian or Not
Can you see it?