Thursday, 12 January 2012

Something wicked this way comes

That’s a quote don’t you know.

I wasn’t going to write a bloggy blog today. I know I haven’t written in a while, I know I know!

But your little face of faces is looking up at me with pie eyes and large, globular, mercury, spoons that dig out my pity and pour it onto the floor meaning I have to put up a ‘slippy floor’ sign.

So I’ve relented and I am here with my festering melancholy.

“Why the melancholy?” You ask with a tiny little squeaky voice of tinyness.

Well we are still in January for starters. I’m not one to wish my life away but living in January is a melancholy thing. I wouldn’t want to live here permanently. It reeks of failure.

always happy with a stick
Everyone, everywhere inspecting their lives and falling short of their own expectations. Their delusions of adequacy manifesting in unfulfilled goals and futile resolutions. The only peak of their lives, a pointless pseudo-religious capitalism fest, is behind them and they see their turgid future stretching before them in vast unending waste. I’m imagining something rather like the fens.

So it is in the middle of this foul swampy bog of stench that I am currently camped. You find me waiting for the reeking veil of fog to raise itself from the earth and free me from its clutches so once again I can trudge along the ever forward march without reflection.

Other than that I’m quite chirpy.

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