Last night I dreamed I was a partial genius. I knew everything, but could think of only one thing at a time. The elusive pattern-that-connects was nearly always obvious to me, but failed to generate the momentum required to overcome apathy. I was frequently inspired, but rarely energetic. My tastes favored the eclectic, but I hid them to avoid the appearance of eccentricity. Rational intuition guided my decisions, but self-sabotage spoiled their execution.
When I woke, I couldn't locate my right arm. Pinned under my body during the night, it was numb and unresponsive, and required assistance from the other arm in order to move at all.
Inspired by my mind's nocturnal handiwork, the metaphorical connection was immediately clear: A numb arm, like intellectual droopiness, is the result of too much sleep.
Dear Simple Truths:
ReplyDeleteYour blog made me laugh out loud.
Loved it!
Kind regards.
Julian
www.ijulian.blogspot.com
[quavering falsetto on]
ReplyDeleteThank you. Thank you very much.
[quavering falsetto off]
No such thing as too much sleep. (yawn...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz)
ReplyDeleteI'm fascinated by the pithiness of your current style. You've taken your prose into the realm of poetry, and I find myself reading your sentences over and over again to fully absorb the nuances. Heck, I'm on the record for liking your earlier writing style, but something has happened ... something big, I think ... and it's quite fascinating! All I can suggest is that you keep riding whatever wave you're on.
ReplyDeleteFrom one eccentric scholar to another, I'm equally fascinated by the current style. It's driven by recent, utterly impossible events, and when the impossible occurs in spite of itself, normal awareness is obliged to reexamine itself. The tangible results of that process are often surprising, and fascinating.
ReplyDeleteIf I have my way, I intend to ride the wave fully into the sunset, and preferably beyond. The alternative is . . . well . . . not very much.