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“Strange”. “Uncertain”. “Unprecedented”.
In these touch-and-go times, such adjectives run rampant in the Tweets and tracts of twats and hacks. The cliché is nauseating. Yet one is assuaged by a conceptual anti-emetic - the cliché (like most) carries a crumb of veracity.
Most arresting for moi has been the protuberance of Pfidze (not a fat thing). Where once she was a mere detail, an accessory, an after-thought, an atom, a fart, a nothing nothing nothing, she now has a monopoly on my life. One cannot move for her (yes, partly a fat thing).
Since Pfidze’s reinstatement, I have been abiding a strict digital diet*, the “cold turkey†” variety at that. Much of this sea-change has been induced by my excursions to the transcendental (or at least pensive) community. Fear not! I have not fully yielded to flower children and blasé kooks. My mind remains open to closing. But I’m having a crack.
The available literature‡ tells me that ours is a culture steeped in a “pornography of production”. Apparently, we are to repudiate the “fetish of do” and cultivate the “power of be”. I’m just having a crack, okay? Thus, I had Pfidze print off and laminate “MONOBE” on a sheet of A4 and Blu Tack it to the ceiling directly above my in-bed head position. Contrary to your unlikely inference, “MONOBE” refers not to the Japanese village but to the practice of BEING one thing at a time.
All to say, as time goes on, I intend on doing less and less. With Pfidze back, I no longer even need to listen to the podcast. Although… if honesty is to be my engine on the path to dormancy, I must confess… I stopped listening to the podcast a long time ago. Why? Was “eschewal of micromanagement” just a euphemism for “plausible deniability”? Who can rightly say? Truth is as the recital of a dream - it’s unique to the individual and nobody wants to hear about it in the first place.
This philosophy is fantastic, you can get away with fucking murder!
*For Pfidze - “Diet” is defined by Merriam-Webster as “a regimen of eating and drinking sparingly so as to reduce one's weight.” You would do well to avail yourself of this conception lest your heart go helter-skelter ‘fore your purpose be known.
†If you slobber over my keyboard as you upload this, Pfidz, you will be one sorry Balt.
‡FYI, given the nature of my abnegation, the “available literature” is a single book on yoga by a certain Dr. B. B. Horrocks. The dust-cover fails to elucidate the nature of her doctorhood.
By Video Village“Strange”. “Uncertain”. “Unprecedented”.
In these touch-and-go times, such adjectives run rampant in the Tweets and tracts of twats and hacks. The cliché is nauseating. Yet one is assuaged by a conceptual anti-emetic - the cliché (like most) carries a crumb of veracity.
Most arresting for moi has been the protuberance of Pfidze (not a fat thing). Where once she was a mere detail, an accessory, an after-thought, an atom, a fart, a nothing nothing nothing, she now has a monopoly on my life. One cannot move for her (yes, partly a fat thing).
Since Pfidze’s reinstatement, I have been abiding a strict digital diet*, the “cold turkey†” variety at that. Much of this sea-change has been induced by my excursions to the transcendental (or at least pensive) community. Fear not! I have not fully yielded to flower children and blasé kooks. My mind remains open to closing. But I’m having a crack.
The available literature‡ tells me that ours is a culture steeped in a “pornography of production”. Apparently, we are to repudiate the “fetish of do” and cultivate the “power of be”. I’m just having a crack, okay? Thus, I had Pfidze print off and laminate “MONOBE” on a sheet of A4 and Blu Tack it to the ceiling directly above my in-bed head position. Contrary to your unlikely inference, “MONOBE” refers not to the Japanese village but to the practice of BEING one thing at a time.
All to say, as time goes on, I intend on doing less and less. With Pfidze back, I no longer even need to listen to the podcast. Although… if honesty is to be my engine on the path to dormancy, I must confess… I stopped listening to the podcast a long time ago. Why? Was “eschewal of micromanagement” just a euphemism for “plausible deniability”? Who can rightly say? Truth is as the recital of a dream - it’s unique to the individual and nobody wants to hear about it in the first place.
This philosophy is fantastic, you can get away with fucking murder!
*For Pfidze - “Diet” is defined by Merriam-Webster as “a regimen of eating and drinking sparingly so as to reduce one's weight.” You would do well to avail yourself of this conception lest your heart go helter-skelter ‘fore your purpose be known.
†If you slobber over my keyboard as you upload this, Pfidz, you will be one sorry Balt.
‡FYI, given the nature of my abnegation, the “available literature” is a single book on yoga by a certain Dr. B. B. Horrocks. The dust-cover fails to elucidate the nature of her doctorhood.