Well, it's the outset of another foul winter week in Seattle, prime time to hoist a Jolly Roger against the palpable gray miasma and introverted angst that often prevail at this time of year. Too much time spent here invokes such an impression of stagnancy and inertia that despite the number of people milling to and fro, almost every day seems like a repetition of the last, a sort of cosmic joke levelled upon those who dwell in moderate maritime climates.
I was thinking about this because someone asked me what I'd "been up to" lately. "Absolutely nothing," I replied; (quaffing malted beverages like water, railing vituperatively against shadows, waiting impatiently for the clouds to break, watching as familiar situations recur in rather tragicomical Nietschzean fashion; typical nothing).
Of course, it's not that bad: there's always a silver lining. Trips to warmer climes, resolutions enacted, forward progress made; the ever-shimmering fabric of time is oft the progenitor of excitement and change.
If only it would seep through to the most inert and inaccessible of places when it seems the most needed.
The Scene: Mandated white noise blares constantly in the background. I enter, consciously tuning my brain to the most autonomous frequency I can achieve under the circumstances, an attempt at reducing the impact of continuously repetitive and menial action on my sanity. With shield in place I struggle to maintain attitude as the barrage of monotony proceeds unabated. Each situation is summarily neutralized and relegated once more to the senseless drone of background noise which threatens constantly to attempt a surprise crescendo against my otherwise well-placed defenses.
Act 465, scene 74: Most perplexingly similar to the preceding scene.
Customer service you. Sun break imminent. Move zig, move zig.