Limbo, what an awkward word for an awkward phase. It screams inadaptability, incoherence, inelegance. Limbs akimbo, you are a paper doll splayed flat and trodden upon by the grimy feet of distracted toddlers. It is a weird stage to be in- the feeling of transition. Lost in translation: the phrases come as squiggles, the particles and connectors are missing, eaten up by the starkness of "contentful" words. Telegraphic stage? I have been going for EL lectures heh, and what a whole new wonderful world it is! I was worried about growing intellectually complacent, which, on hindsight, is quite a joke, because I am neither intellectual, nor have anything to be complacent about. Every sentence is a struggle to be understood. Thus, my eyes turn into stars when I witness the sparkling wit of Simon Amstell from Never Mind The Buzzcocks. The sharp ripostes flow ceaselessly from a pellucid spring, or something beautiful like that. It is nice knowing that there are people who are awesome out there. They will be the ones to save us from Armageddon; they will splinter the hurtling comets. I will watch and applaud from the shade under a juniper tree. And that, is the exact opposite of what I am supposed to be striving for. Half a month into the new year, and the resolution list is burning itself up in betrayal. Blarg.
( the summers daft and winters long )
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