Welcome to the month of sheer and utter lacking. June has flown by in a way that is reminiscent of a dark storm with high winds and torrential rain - for an utterly unoriginal metaphoric point of view.On a more original note, June has been much like a pleasant drizzling of honey over pancakes. Slow, anticipated, and utterly delicious, albeit time consuming in its fluid, sloth-like movement. Staring at the honey has eaten up minutes otherwise spent chasing rabbits.
How about that?
So, this month hasn't been terrible, but it's been at a bit of a standstill in certain areas. I will finish Then We Came to the End one of the days. I will, I will, I will.
Until then, I still sit around and randomly wonder whether or not this is all meaningless or perfectly pieced together. I'll need to sort that out over the next few months; I need to figure if what The End talks about is what I want to put up with, once again, later this year. Tick, tick, tick.
"... good god, was work so meaningless? Was life so meaningless? It reminded him of when an ad got watered down by a client, and watered down, until everything interesting about the ad disappeared. Carl still had to write copy for it. The art director still had to put the drop shadow where the drop shadow belonged and the logo in its proper place. That was the process known as polishing the turd. [...] Sure, for the sake of survival, but more immediately, for the sake of some sadistic manager or shit-brained client whose small imagination and numbingly dumb ideas were bleaching the world of all relevancy and hope." (p. 237)
That about sums it up.
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