Ideas and events are best explained and related through drama. That said, I should probably be coming up with a concept for a play instead of writing this, but well, things don’t always work that way. Perhaps some day in the future… but more of that later. Urgent business, this ranting.
Well, well, well. Funny typewriter images are dramatic.
Today has been an extremely curious day, dramatically speaking. In the afternoon I had another of those out-of-the-blue conversations with Fasciola hystolytica, about superhero movies, comics and RDJ. The small talk was small enough to be innocuous, and quickly turned confrontational, as all such conversations are wont to. Realisation catches you in the ribs when you are least expecting it. But hey, I’m not ticklish. Much. So when the conversation started becoming unbelievably tactless and in poor taste, from one side, I didn’t really react. Much. Well what could I have expected to say in retort to point-blank insensitiveness? “Well I had great fun this Mid-Summer Eventide.” “Oh. The number of damns I give is: oh damn.” But that didn’t put me off the conversation. The fighting spirit is much too powerful in me, or so I’ve been told. So I carefully smiled my way out of the awkwardness(for me) and tried to bring the attention to the tone the conversation was taking by making elaborate third person references to syntactic and idiomatic usage of the English language. I think that was more to myself, than to the Fasciolas. But that was that. I am much too sophisticated to judge people from their behavior in delicate situations, so I just sneered at them from the inside. That helps when you feel threatened by inferiors. You should try it. So I walked away with that aura of smugness that often follows such incidents of harrowing humiliation, content in knowing that the worms admitted to being as shallow and base as I accused them of being.
This conversation wouldn’t have mattered if it hadn’t been about drama. I could go off in a tangent about people not being empathetic enough and being narrow minded, self centered, egotistical, snobbish, having tunnel vision, being hedonistic and in general placing themselves a little above the canopy at Olympus. But I hate digressions. I really do.
This evening, the Muses performed one of their choicest works, and the demigods reacted suitably with much ado, punctuated by tail stamping, horn bumping and claw breaking. It was so much fun! To be a part of a revolution and to be aware that if anything went wrong, I’d have to share the blame for someone throwing up on a recently refurnished auditorium stage! To stare in horror as some of the props toppled off on their accord, and cringe in resignation as others went hurtling towards an unsuspecting audience! To know that yelling and raging and pointing fingers can sometimes come to fruition after watching a good play! Ah, intellectual bliss. Then it was time for them to pack up and moan. They left to sell themselves at some fancy French place this evening.
I’m not sure which of the two was a better experience. But I’m not one for categorizing, unlike people with OCD. I’m not unfazed by the goings-on in my head either. So although I was inspired enough by the worms and the Muses to put a little more e-ink on e-paper, I assure, you my dear, concerned, sympathetic, morally upright and stiff-upper-lipped reader, that life still goes on. Until the Study of Mysteries assignment gets done, at any rate. Smart dustbins are quite mysterious.
Therefore, today was just another day in drama. Dramatically speaking.
Synaptic plasticity 