the supplicance of winning

3 September, 2009

fence post lizard

Regretfully I woke up today, the sheets soft and my stomach sour. Wiping the sleep from my eyes I checked to see if the faceless coward had surrendered in the night. I looked into her camp for the white flag diligently but without expectation, more for prosperity’s concern than for any real hope. I sipped my coffee and ate my oatmeal and then few of my fingernails, mentally plotting.

I knew the fight would be humiliating (as most who fear the friction fail to realize is the truest emotion in combat). My enemy is eyeless, obese and benign. Our battlefield intangible, unreal, incorporeal and consisting entirely of waiting, waiting.

I’m getting really quite good at A) dealing with the frustration of futility, B) at the honing the skill of stubbornness and C) of getting people to think it was their good idea.

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