Paraphrasing

Deafening lack of updates I know. Truth be told though, dial-up internet still sucks and I sit in an area at work where there's no reception to "borrow" my neighbour's wireless signal. Thus negating any desire to become frustrated while trying to load my blogger dashboard.

Life has kind of picked up a little bit. Old friends who I haven't seen in years that were away in university have come back to the motherland after graduating. Thathi left last Friday, and I'm now at work full time. Yeah, I know I had to say goodbye to those awesome flex hours. Added to all of this I've rediscovered my journal, the pen and ink kind and have become a bit lost in the comfort of writing by hand. (None of it is legible by the way. My penmanship is as terrible as it's always been.)

This can hardly be called a real post I know, I wrote it a long time ago, and since no one reads my blog I thought I'd post it. Plus the Canadian history buff in me is slightly curious. Ten bucks goes to the person who can figure out which line I nicked from former Prime Minister Mackenzie-King's disgusted speech writer. (It's been slightly paraphrased)

In this day of hyper polarisation where first cousins fact and fiction become bedfellows baring cross eyed children; we gaze on in voyeuristic joy. As euphemistic wars rage on we stop living and start existing. The first-past-the-post doesn't even realise that he is on the other side and thus no tangible thought is paid to the future. So we continue on in the same manner, complete in our own obliviousness happy to be unaware.

It is delicious.

Oh wait, what's this? It's been expired for a week? But our consumption continues and never ceases. As our one dimensional lives never seem to take on any form. Although we stare into the proverbial abyss we still watch on repeat what we've TiVo'ed in our heads. It has become our high definition reality. Without knowing a kind of government sanctioned deception. Where botoxed promises flow forth freely.

Freezing faces as well as minds.

So here we are on pause, as little statues made of glass. Hold us to the light and you can see right through us. Shatter one against the wall and see the splinters of hypocrisy. Now we come with a special carrying case in an array of colours, complete with scratch resistant intolerance.

And yet some among us become unstuck. And these few proclaim that they are tired of playing hospital. No longer do they want to be the midwives in this game with its cast of intellectual virgins. Instead they move ahead and run away, hodge podge members of society, they flee but find there is no place to go.