Wednesday, September 18, 2002
I have to confess, I don't know at all what that desklamp thing was all about. It was a mostly pre-coffee ramble, a melancholy diatribe brought about by my overwrought flair for drama.
Call it an acute case of dramatic license.
I can honestly say that things are in some need of a shaking up. What that might be, as usual, is not clear. But the frothing of the milkshake of life has already begun. Things are afoot, my friends, things are afoot. There are several hair-brained schemes in the pipeline, as per my usual; as far as a preview of coming attractions (as a former professor used to say), thus:
Aren't you excited?
Call it an acute case of dramatic license.
I can honestly say that things are in some need of a shaking up. What that might be, as usual, is not clear. But the frothing of the milkshake of life has already begun. Things are afoot, my friends, things are afoot. There are several hair-brained schemes in the pipeline, as per my usual; as far as a preview of coming attractions (as a former professor used to say), thus:
- A reversal; a mis-education, if you will.
- High-speed chases.
- Overwhelming web presence.
Aren't you excited?
Monday, September 16, 2002
What has happened to the cool?
It's almost as if someone has lit up the landscape of this life, and it has surprisingly revealed itself to be pretty damn dull. To draw a stark picture of this process, I can offer a short narration. In the words of the late Rod Serling, who incidentally was featured in a nice piece this morning on KCRW:
Yeah, that's pretty much it. Well, enough, then; it's probably long past the time to do something about it. No time like the present; I'm off for a cup, and then we'll regroup.
It's almost as if someone has lit up the landscape of this life, and it has surprisingly revealed itself to be pretty damn dull. To draw a stark picture of this process, I can offer a short narration. In the words of the late Rod Serling, who incidentally was featured in a nice piece this morning on KCRW:
...imagine, if you will, a desklamp - an old, creaky, worn-spring desklamp. As it swings into place with an audible note of complaint, you are reminded of endless hours of homework done under protest, and under its harsh glare. The lamp comes alive, flooding your view with its incandescent brightness, banishing the dark but uncovering the empty, featureless expanse of desk below.
Yeah, that's pretty much it. Well, enough, then; it's probably long past the time to do something about it. No time like the present; I'm off for a cup, and then we'll regroup.