To play the fool

Earlier today, the good folks at ug deftly logged the haplessness one experiences when being found to look quite the ass. I not only recognized the situation, but felt I could one-up with a woeful tale of autobio-buttheadness all my own.

When I'd just about finished patting myself on the back, I also took note that the grease mongers had already started this finely aligned year off by lapping me three-fold by EOD, precisely the sort pithy burst expected of writers who, over the course of holiday off-seasons, gather their moss round the on-a-roll, stoney resolution to chip away at the edited edifice with more Riis-ilient persistence.

Chisel of thought raised, I hesitated. True to form, yet wasn't this to be a new year, a fresh blog? Admiring the masthead's totem serenity, I imagined it tilted upon its Roman-Numeral head.

The fool as leitmotif? That the initial imprint upon this fresh server, the keynote missive signaling Jupiter's entrance into Capricorn, assuring an endless, Edenic, idyllic golden season should be so lowly. Disbelief washes over me.

Still, reality strikes back. If I'm sincere in my concern that all literate brethren, as they navigate the shifty e-seas seeking filters for thought, deserve not only utility and enjoyment but also a thesis statement of sorts, I could trust my instinct's provisions. For once.

Leitmotif?

Let it flow.

After all this woe is me...