Unorthodox use of colons? Poss:bly.
I may achieve greatness in a certain field, such as ice hockey, figure skating or ice hating. It may even have nothing to do with ice. Who can say? Ours is not to question Y (or any of the other letters).
Even if we really want to know what Y is going moonlighting as a vowel. We can't question him. He has rights. We have to follow letter law by the letter of the law (which oddly is an H).
It could be that this blog is my legacy. I certainly seem obsessed with documenting birthdays, anniversaries, post milestones etc. I probably like to ascribe significance to my actions because I fear their insignificance.
Perhaps we all do that. We mark the passage of time with parties and tattoos and cakes (and tattoos of cakes), but it's pretty meaningless. Like throwing a flag at random into the Amazon and claiming it as important. Then reminiscing about that bit of water, showing pictures of it, listing the bit of water on Facebook, even though in the grand scheme of things it's just one drop in a torrent. And each other droplet is just as significant and just as meaningless.
Which is depressing, but also exciting. The river keeps moving, but we move with it. We can leave things behind. We can meet other people swept up in the current. We can look at a turtle. We can crack our heads open on a log. We can fashion a canoe out of a pre-existing canoe.
We're all wet.
This is an excellent analogy. It makes sense all the way through. Think about the symbolism.
Actually, don't think about it. Listen to this instead:
The video's a bit weird though.
***
It's Monday night. The night of the wolf.
There is a wolf somewhere RIGHT NOW.
Try not to think about it.
I SAID TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT IT!
I'm probably too obsessed with my own legs to get a job in showbusiness.
"What does that mean?" you may ask.
I don't know, I may answer.
I just started writing a sentence and it came into my head. My legs and showbusiness came into my head.
I think it speaks of a deep truth. Maybe I am obsessed with my legs: my massive thighs; my muscular calves; my white scars, deep like Arctic ravines; my noble knees; my Sooty & Sweep knee pads; my proud, girder-like ankles.
But I don't think that would stop me getting ahead in Hollywood. Unless I couldn't complete an audition without stroking my own quadriceps. But I could work it into the audition. Maybe the character I'm playing is mentally ill, I'll say (I'll say!).
God, I love my legs.
What about you?
Are you thinking about my legs right now?
...
Well?
JESUS! NOT AGAIN, GODDAMMIT!
THINK ABOUT THE LEGS!
THE LEGS!
We've all had some fun here tonight.
I'd like to finish by wishing you all the best of luck this coming Wednesday.
It's not going to be easy, of course; it never is. But it's only once a year. Like the old song says:
"On the twelfth of January, significant things are planuary."
If we all stick together, I'm sure we'll emerge into Thursday with our heads held high.
Especially if we get through Wednesday night. The night of the other wolf.
I'm off to not spend an unnatural time exploring my own legs or anything.
I too have thickly muscled legs, and like you I revel in them (and indeed on them).
ReplyDeleteThey flatter to deceive. For example, despite being hideously fat, I am quite fast and a very good dancer. This is largely due to tremendous leg strength.
I also quite like women to have well-muscled legs. There was an article in the paper once naming Britney Spears as having the worst celebrity legs, on the grounds that they are too muscly. I think they're fiiiiiine. By contrast, a weak calf is very unattractive, and ruins many a woman's overall look.