Where the words have to be forced out, bit by bit, because that is what we decide to do

I like decisions. I like their finality, the fact that they have been (hopefully) arrived at after some sort of intellectual process. That a “decision” rests on a number of factors, perhaps not many, but (hopefully) more than one. Making a decision should be like figuring out a jigsaw puzzle. It need not be a complicated one, it could just have three pieces but you still have to put them together no?

Yeah, I like the idea of decisions. A stable, grounded decision.

Of course, not all of them fuckers are like that.

There are those decisions that are so ugly that even their momma be like “That deci be one ugly motha”. Ones which are those weird half colours, with one colour blending into the other and then another and another so all you have is this mixture of colours that don’t really become one. Tilting this way and that, with the reasons real flimsy little fuckers. Shaking and daring the other to fall. “Aye, reason 2, you know you are half imaginary na?”

Fuck. Reasons trash talking each other. Willing the other to fall, to come crashing down, to remove the mask of logic, and go all jiggy wiggy in the rain. Like mad men and children.

Yeah, those decisions are there too. The jiggy wiggy ones who dance in the rain. Like mad men and children.

Here’s to those kind of decisions as well.

.

I have recently started drinking wine and I have to say, I don’t know what the fuck I am doing. But it is a start. And I like holding the glass in my hand and taking a sip now and then. Eating a little bit of this and that, with the glass in my hand, and some music in the back. Shuffling gently into my ears.

.

I would shuffle to most places if I could. Just shuffle. Not walk or run or anything. But shuffle. Like the moonwalk except you are going forward. Ooooh, that would be cool. But then what would you do over uneven ground? I don’t know man. I clearly haven’t thought through this.

Oh you mean, your decision was not a well-made one?

Mad men and children.

Ta-da!

Advertisements
This entry was posted in complete and utter bullshit, Stop making Sense, When you snore a puppy dies in somalia. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s