Usually I surrender my findings to their most appropriate places, and so pocketing the phone for the time being, I figured I'd plug it in at home and wait for missed calls to pile up - at which point I'd answer and demand a ransom.
I'll admit it. I'm one of those people who has a tendency to overthink things, argue for and against a point or an objective until I'm purple in the face.
Don't you just hate it when you can't successfully trace the genealogy of a particular quote, one that's been bangin' around inside your head?
You know how some movies are purportedly historical? Inspired by actual events is the tagline I'm recalling. Well, consider this post basically the same. These things actually happened, but I'm going to take liberties with the prose to make it more readable, more blog worthy, if you will.
I was once returning home from a day trip to Sydney, BC, when I passed the billboard for a local used-car dealership. "Sometimes when following the masses, the 'M' is silent," it declared, suggesting that conformism in certain cases equals idiocy.
It's been a while since my last post. In retrospect, I look back upon it as being of somewhat dubious literary value, something more akin to what the British might call a quota-quickie; a literal means to an end.
I'm tired by the time the wings begin to deform, flaps extending, the engines perspiring columns of heat that warp the image of the earth below, lending a diorama like perspective on the office towers clawing into the sky. I can see bodegas, corner stores, tennis courts, all rushing up to see me.
In the automotive industry, there's a term that describes the action of veering adrift when encountering uneven surfaces: bump-steer. It seems to describe my life at the minute.
I vowed this year would be my best, but instead it had been godawful, just terrible, maybe the worst since my brother up and died on me, in that cold ward at the Kaiser Permanente, six years before.