inside there appear to be a few choices as to how to pass the time.
will it entertain me to wiggle and jump around like a chihuahua having fits and be Luigi on the Wii?
will it thrill me to my toes to read the very proper yet somewhat breathless observations of Mlle Austen?
or maybe the intellectual meanderings of a political magazine will really rock my boat.
ah i think i'll just vegetate online.
summer makes everything seem like it's infinitely cooler when done indoors or under water. and since under water is quite out of my depth, i thought the indoors would have to do.
and so i settled into the cool drowsiness of an empty living room with nothing to do, realised that where i was afforded me precious access to the ever elusive internet and thereupon began to manoeuvre myself deftly through the verbose thickets of political journals and the sunlit halls of old Hollywood talk.
and that was when it hit me.
i'd rather look through the glossies about ol' blue eyes and grace kelly and that darling porcelain wonder audrey hepburn. i'd rather do that than use the information that people hand to me to form an informed opinion on the matters that i speak so vociferously about and be right by fluke so often. a million times i give up. sometimes halfway on skipping from one hyperlink to the next in that accursed game of leapfrog we must play to stay on top of a world of fast sinking stories and headlines that disappear.
it's the ultimate nightmare to be the expert, the maven. you're on the skidding of a rolling drum, constantly shifting under the weight of it's own mortality.
ah well.
we'd much rather talk about the continuous issues of which gender has the more immortal follies. we'd much rather scan the patterns in food cravings and gossip cravings and cravings of a more fickle sort, for transient as they seem, they are the ones that endure. they stick through generations of fasting old men and tidal calamities and by god! i will stick with them.
