I'm a hermit. A prisoner. A castaway. For the past... --what? 16? 17 days? I've lost count-- few people have caught sight of me. I picture myself scratching a count of passing days on my cell wall.
I've measured my room and hallway so many times and with such precision, I could draw it to scale eyes closed. 4 and a half steps from my door to the opposing wall. Turn on my heels, 4 & 1/2 to the door, 7 to reach the fridge, 7 back and start again, book in my hand, a black cloud hovering over my head.
I've munched enough BS in the last days to last me two lifetimes. Scholarly literary criticism on modern fiction is full of manure so concentrated that, sparingly used, every page could fertilize half an acre for a year. One important lesson I've learned, I can share with you: when you reach the third use of the word "postmodernism", it's time to drop the book & chuck it in the bin.
Nothing coming after that will make the meagrest sense or be of any remote value whatsoever, to you or anyone else on this planet, with the one exception of the skunkhead dimwit who wrote it and will make a name for himself in the academia through an impressive pages-of-bullshit-in-print (POBSIP) figure. The more you read, the less you will understand. Learn from my mistake, spare yourself the pain and confusion.
Ok, the break is over. Now I'm going back to my cell, but I feel the first rays of hope playfully glittering in my eyes. In 4 days it will all be over. See you on the 27th.
3 comments:
Aah, what a pleasant surprise! It was high time your imprisonment got its due share of awareness, albeit for attempting to release part of the pressure. But WHO's afraid of ANY big (bad) essay?
Speaking of text and its recent developments, I came to believe that the new paradigm in all humanistic subjects has turned definitions into living concepts(see "imprisonment" above). Honestly, we're living a life of cartoon characters; toothpaste tubes and lines of biscuits are waltzing their smile across our TV screens; swarms of microbes sneer and giggle at our bodily odours,even our thoughts emerge - through already obsolete computer techniques - into allegoric shapes: nothing else but the dream of reason. But this is another topic. Don't worry, it'll soon be over.
Or: if you can't beat them, join them!
Hahahha!
Why, indeed! Western TV is being Japanized!
My imprisonment is over! Yeeee-haaww!! (fires gun repeatedly)
Fireguns & firecrackers,
Dani is back!!
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