The Obscure

Hello, ladies and gents. Tis' a fine night for an evening, as they say; or as they had said, until the utterance of such redundant statements became outlawed under pain of figurative decapitation. I have seen the threat of figurative decapitation bring a strong man to tears. Well, figuratively I have. In actuality it was a tiny newborn mongolian baby--and there is a good chance that baby would have been crying in any case. BUT, the potential for a weeping strong man is there, living inside that miniscule wailing mongol like an outrageously metaphorical eskimo, nestled warm within his fleshy igloo.

There is an enormous itch inside my eardrums. In frustration, I sent a platoon of fire ants into my ear canal to see if they could not pinpoint the trouble, but somehow this only seems to have made matters worse!
I do not want an ear infection! I have had my fill of those!

The pen is a simple invention, really. What is it? A stick, a stick with some ink in it and a tapered end. Good lord, who was the genius that came up with that one?! But it is so enormous, that something as simple as a stick with some ink could be harnessed as a tool; this irritatingly plain device can take the abstract thought of a human and make it tangible. Weird, huh? Also, stunningly obvious!
It's the simple things of the world that catch me off guard, though. Something like a computer or a television, that can be explained to me, and it can make sense based on the principles of our reality. Simpler things though, such as the Wheel or the Wedge, these are the things that those principles are based on. It amazes me that a whole society can be based on technology, and the whole of that technology comes down to such simple fundamental roots that a pre-schooler could comprehend.
That paragraph did not really make any sense. Let's ignore it.

I got paid today, a bit. I was feeling a little down, so I went to the Mall and bought a few Miles Davis albums and a John Coltrane album to cheer myself up. Miles Davis and John Coltrane are really all the FYE Jazz Section has. I contemplated buying a Chick Corea thing but it was too rich for my blood.
I picked up Birth of the Cool, Sketches of Spain, and a third on that shall remain nameless at the present time, by Davis, and A Love Supreme, by Coltrane.
I normally wouldn't have bothered, because I could just ask Tim to burn me those things or borrow them from him or something, but for some reason I felt like buying my own copies tonight. I love jazz so much, you know? It just felt proper.
Don't read into it, it doesn't make any sense! YOU WILL LOSE YOUR MIND!

Anyway, I'm going to go to bed now, because tomorrow morning I have to wake up at the CRACK OF DAWN to help my dad clean the church. By "crack of dawn" I mean Ten. Still, that's pretty earlier for a Saturday--or as I call them "Every Day."
G'night folks.