It has to be a while since I breakfasted on hors d’oeuvres and champagne. How long has it been? How long is the dream, girl? How far can it be extended? Too much of late has become just a matter of retreat into fantasy. But maybe that is just as well since, throwing off the warm dead sheets of illiterate self-pity, Renquist V – which is now well under way – could prove to be the hardest fantasy into which I have ever retreated. The good fight must be fought while I fluctuate at dangerous keyboard frequencies between “This is brilliant” and “Michael, you are going certifiably crazy”, but always stretching for the correct crack in the tuning-fork tonality has never been a symptom of sanity. But I don’t despair. It is early days yet. Characters old and new are loosed to scrabble randomly across the star-studded sidewalk like the windup toys of a indigent street vendor of Newtonian clockwork. Smile when you pray that, pilgrim. Only I know how clueless and simultaneously confident I am that it will all come together in the end and I won’t have to nuke the whole lot of them, because I did that on one occasion and it really pissed off many of you gentle readers. But, in the meantime, remind me to tell you about the Fermi Paradox and the Zoo Hypothesis before the ancient wistfulness silences me.
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2 comments:
They don't make them like you anymore!
Maybe that just as well.
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