The Agony and Ecstacy - or lack of it thereof
Somethings will never change. I remain a ripoff. I decide to think up a grand Title to this article and end up combining the name of a book with the name of a post by a close friend. However, I console myself with the fact that it is not me writing this, but one of the 10,633 bloody chimps, gorillas and other primates that are clackity clacking away at those 10,633 typewriters in front of them. Mental note: I've got to try to get myself a discount on that last set of typewriters; and the bananas.
So, as I was saying, my dear Storm; I may call you Storm, mayn't I? I must say, Adas sounds a little too pansy; even if you do say it in a way that it sounds all capitals. ADAS indeed. So, coming back to what I was saying, I was remarking on the way my life has gone completely topsy turvy. I once considered myself a radical in search for a deserving cause. I would rant and rave, wax eloquent when not required and generally behave in a prosaic manner. This is actually better than behaving in a poetic manner owing to the fact that one can write prose but not live it.
And then, I joint my job. Not my current job, you understand, which is absolutely wonderful. I mean, I love the Banshee, after all, I started it. But before that, in the quagmire of the business world, in the desolate desert after the wafts of wizardry, in the tiramisu, no, not quite tiramisu of, um, tyranny, I found myself bordering, dare I say it, on the edges even, on the cliff face, in the heart, of mediocrity. Oh the shame of it! What is that you say? Stop whining? O pish posh? How I exagerrate? Why I never.
Let me tell you how it began, then, my dear unbeliever and may I struck by lightning if ever a word of what I speak is untrue. Ouch. Very funny. My funny bone is NOT a lightning rod, dear chap. Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Ah yes, the point of this whole conversation is that I am now a mediocrity. I was so engrossed in my work when I did join, that I forgot the finer things in life. I forgot what it was to laugh at myself, to step back enjoy the flowers that one sees on the peripheries of vision and wisdom and choose to neglect, I forgot to chase girls, that commodity, commodity did I say? I meant jewel, that was gifted to man by the gods above. Ah yes, the time I could have had, my dear chap; I do believe, I've used dear thrice in this one paragraph. And I threw it all away, all to become a mediocrity.
What was that chap's name again? Sal something. I remember what he said sitting in his wheelchair. Mediocrities of the world! I absolve you, I absolve you, I absolve you.
The Knight spoke, "Oh shut up!"
So, as I was saying, my dear Storm; I may call you Storm, mayn't I? I must say, Adas sounds a little too pansy; even if you do say it in a way that it sounds all capitals. ADAS indeed. So, coming back to what I was saying, I was remarking on the way my life has gone completely topsy turvy. I once considered myself a radical in search for a deserving cause. I would rant and rave, wax eloquent when not required and generally behave in a prosaic manner. This is actually better than behaving in a poetic manner owing to the fact that one can write prose but not live it.
And then, I joint my job. Not my current job, you understand, which is absolutely wonderful. I mean, I love the Banshee, after all, I started it. But before that, in the quagmire of the business world, in the desolate desert after the wafts of wizardry, in the tiramisu, no, not quite tiramisu of, um, tyranny, I found myself bordering, dare I say it, on the edges even, on the cliff face, in the heart, of mediocrity. Oh the shame of it! What is that you say? Stop whining? O pish posh? How I exagerrate? Why I never.
Let me tell you how it began, then, my dear unbeliever and may I struck by lightning if ever a word of what I speak is untrue. Ouch. Very funny. My funny bone is NOT a lightning rod, dear chap. Where was I before I was so rudely interrupted? Ah yes, the point of this whole conversation is that I am now a mediocrity. I was so engrossed in my work when I did join, that I forgot the finer things in life. I forgot what it was to laugh at myself, to step back enjoy the flowers that one sees on the peripheries of vision and wisdom and choose to neglect, I forgot to chase girls, that commodity, commodity did I say? I meant jewel, that was gifted to man by the gods above. Ah yes, the time I could have had, my dear chap; I do believe, I've used dear thrice in this one paragraph. And I threw it all away, all to become a mediocrity.
What was that chap's name again? Sal something. I remember what he said sitting in his wheelchair. Mediocrities of the world! I absolve you, I absolve you, I absolve you.
The Knight spoke, "Oh shut up!"
posted by TenG at 10:15 PM
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