Thursday, June 17, 2004

"Not even God can both love and be wise."

Due to recent themes, I should probably point out that the previous quote has little to do with religion and much more to do with the characteristics of love.

I should probably also point out that when I quote things it is often because I don't know what else to say.

I quote things often.

My friends are very tolerant of this because they are patient and loving. It's also likely that they just don't even realize I'm quoting at all.

One of my girlfriends was less tolerant of it and dismissed it as "being cliche'".

Ironically, I had nothing to say to that.

Quoting is something I think I have always done to some extent, but only really picked up after reading Frank Herbert's Dune. I wanted to be like Gurney Halleck, a warrior-poet. I wanted to be able go out and meet life on the field of battle with an arsenal of weapons and words at my command.

Hell, I still desire that.

A warrior-poet.

Warrior comes first, I noticed. Which is logical. After all, it is rather difficult to wax poetic after you've failed to parry a sword-thrust to your gulliver.

So I hear.

I guess what I'm saying is that I don't really know what to say right now. Well, having already quoted something, I will now fall to Plan 34: Check the notebooks.

(There really are only two plans, Plan A, to quote, and Plan 34, to check the notebooks. The classification system could use some improvement, I'll admit.)

I was reading some Shakespeare while I was in bed last night. I keep a notebook by my bed in case I feel like writing anything before I doze off. It can lead to some interesting reading in the morning. I checked it today and I found this (mind you, I'd just been reading Shakespeare.):

"It occurs to me that in days of yore, it was not uncommon for a person, having their offer of love thus rebuked, to go a bit mad. Indeed, it was rather expected and even insulting if one did not make some sort of public display of grief.

The pursued would know themselves to have been correct in rebuking a romantic proposal were the scorned to take no pause for sorrow but instead gilt themselves anew for their next pursuit.

I am speaking now of love's patterns, of which I know little of save that they are seldom certain."

Yeah, I know. I had to look up "gilt" the next day because I wasn't even sure what it meant. It means to cover with a thin layer of gold, or to make deceptively attractive.

So I did use it correctly. Go me.

I should probably learn to trust myself sometimes.

I also found a single sentence that I've been puzzling over. It says "My greatest fear is the blurring of days."

Hm.

Wait, I have to talk about something funny for Meg. I could tell a joke. I'll have to warn you, I'm not very good at telling actual jokes.

A few years ago, when times were tough, I made nails for a living. Yup, plain old iron nails. They weren't hard to make and everyone needs nails every now and then so I was doing okay. I even found a little shop that would carry my nails.

But I wanted to do better. A friend of mine talked me into seeing some advertising agency; he said that an ad on television could help boost business.

I figured, why not? What would it hurt? So I went to see the ad guys.

"So, what are you selling?" one of the two guys asked eagerly.

"I make nails," I said.

"Great! Come back in one week and we'll have a commercial for you! No charge unless you like it, of course."

The guys seemed really enthusiastic about everything so I agreed.

I came back the next week. The guys showed me to a little viewing room. They put in the tape of my ad, and I sat to watch.

The commercial opened up on a far-away shot of a mob of people. It zoomed in closer, and I could see that they were all wearing drab robes and were shaking their fists, very angry about something.

In the center of the crowd was a very familiar-looking man. Well, he wasn't very familiar-looking, but there was no mistaking the large, wooden cross he was nailed to.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

The camera continued to zoom in. It went right up to the crowd, over them and then zoomed in incredibly close to the man's hand. Of course, there was a nail in it. On the head of the nail it said in big, bold letters, "Gurg's Nails."

Then it faded to black.

I was horrified. "I can't have a commercial like that!" I cried, "I'll be lynched in the streets!"

"Okay, okay, calm down," said one of the guys, "Come back in a week and we'll have another commercial for you to look at."

"Another commercial?!" I shouted, "What do plan to do, show one of my nails assassinating Abraham Lincoln?!"

"Okay, okay, we understand," said the second guy. "We'll use less strong symbolism next time."

"Symbolism?" I said "You call that...look, I just don't want a commercial with people getting killed all over the place. I came here for something nice, something happy."

"Okay, just come back in one week."

I reluctantly agreed.

The next week I was back at the agency, back in that little viewing room. I'd been dreading it all week.

"We think you're really going to like this. It's very nice and very happy."

I sat in silence and waited as they began the tape.

On the screen was a beautiful blue sky with big, white, fluffy clouds traveling lazily across it. The camera panned down and showed a lush, green meadow, with stalks of grass swaying gently in the wind.

"This is very nice." I said.

The camera closed in on a gentle hill. A man with an enormous smile on his face came bounding over the top. He ran happily down the hill and through the lush, green meadow until he was out of sight.

"This is all very nice," I reiterated, "But I don't think I understand-"

"Shh!"

It was the hill again. Two men came running over the top. But these men were different. These men looked red-faced, as if they had been running a very long time. And, while the happy man had been wearing a white robe, these men were wearing the distinctive armor of 1st century Roman soldiers.

At the top of the hill, the two soldiers stopped to catch their breath. One turned to the other. "See!" he huffed accusingly, "I told you we should've used Gurg's Nails!"

*rimshot*

Goodnight everybody.

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