28 Going On ‘Missing, Presumed…’

I just spent 4 hours being unmanly.

Manliness is easier when sitting down, but therein lies the flaw of the matter – video games, despite all their sword-flailing/bullet-busting/gore-for-all enthusiasm, are not a manly way to spend ones time.

Stewing up a stench, gaining body fat in every region aside from the virulent thumbs, and alienating myself from my own inner dialogue, is not an effective use of my Monday; nor is it a good reason for all those cavemen predecessors to have procreated and died in a long line of folk known for their good thumb-work all adding up to me; eating more calories than I could possibly spend because I feel like it, with booze before noon, and a disdain for the unfashionable sunlight because it creates glare from my television screen.

Video games are a waste of evolution.

I can think of other species that would have died to have had those thumbs (in many cases – they did die – Dodos with thumbs would’ve vanquished those pirates); and here I am – wasting them like any other comparable metaphor that I can’t think of.

4 hours devoted to pixels is probably a major factor as to why I can’t do the proper word thinking no more.

Nobody looks back from their death-bed and wishes they’d spent more time wasting their life.

Oscar Wilde committed his last words as an epigram, proper sturdy wit that has lasted the ages as a bit of throw-away excuse-me-for-being-so-hopelessly-charming-and-acutely-smashing via the line: “Either that wallpaper goes or I do.” And he did.

Upon my own deathbed, surrounded by the failures of my life – obvious my omission – I shall advice this of the young: “Get ahead in Candy Crush early; it’ll save a lot of living”.
I don’t know why I don’t do things.

It could be the fear of failure. It could be the fear of success.

When I look back on the manner of living by which I have conducted myself, I could cry.

I’ve had a high-flying job, travelled the world, wooed fierce women and defeated great men, I’ve a formidable gang of friends and family that is quite simply better than yours, with a woman by my side whose perfection and reciprocated love for me is unutterable by any common tongue as it seems only constant and fiery devotion to one another will do.

I have a dog.

Fairly charming.

Me – not the dog.

My ancestors will die and leave me enough money that I will never have to work yet I can still envision myself being ignored by the people on the street as I begin to worry about eating that day and having very cold feet.

I was raised with my head in books and only the most-lofty of clouds, my arse in a theatre and my feet on the pitch. I was accused of being able to do anything I wanted in life, and so began a fear of taking those few short steps are all that require me to do so.

I have taken steps; no strides.

I could do anything, and it terrifies me.

Not deserved, what some would have killed for

I need to take no more steps, as I feel only strides will do. That great single stride that begins every great adventure, only it must be one that cannot be stepped back.

I’m not sure if its anxiety or simple stage fright (on that stage that all the world is, and all the people merely players).

Being an egomaniac is a terrible thing when you’re on your own, with nobody to make laugh and only the cold stare of your disappointed self, wondering why you haven’t made it great yet.

This ‘second coming’ wasn’t worth all the hype was it?

Time to be a man about this.

First, a good hardy slap to the right (upper) cheek.

Glasses off.

Ow (Damn I’m good at that).

Second, a promise to be immediately fulfilled.

An article, written post-hence, to be properly proofread and fully uploaded to all available media.

The subject: the greatest aspects of Earth I we need to flaunt to all alien life for two reasons:

1. They are intimidated by the Haka and learn a lesson in fucking off.

2. They hear the immortal tale of the human condition of lucky suffering – ABBA’s Mamma Mia.

3. Well, read the article and you’ll find out.

I have to say, writing is a marvellous thing, as reading is also, and I think you’ll find that together we can get a bit of both jolly well done, eh?

And remember, “do not go gentle into that good night”, but make sure you give the dawn a good kicking too.

With strides only,

Sam

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