He addressed the crowd: “Please, listen. I’ve got one or two things to say!
“Please, siblings, quell your clamouring excitement, for we
must all hear the wisdom to be imparted!
Friends, please back up, lest we crush those most fervent believers down
the front – move back, please, move back and be seated!”
Some at the corners of the crowd tittered involuntarily,
perhaps labouring under the misapprehension that he had been joking. The shocked, disapproving facial expressions
of the faithful impelled them to still their guffawing.
There were thirteen people in the room.
There were thirteen people in the room.
He spoke up again, saying: “I tell you solemnly, as the
prophets have told us: “Nothing is so good it lasts eternally; perfect situations must go wrong. But this has never yet prevented me from wanting far too much, for far too long. Looking back, I could have played it differently; won a few more moments – who can tell? But it took time to understand the man. Now, at least, I know, I know him well.”
That they said it over the overused synth pitch-bend and shrieking 70s electric guitar sound served up by them Swedish lads doth not remove its wisdom! Lo, does not even the evil Sith Lord Lloyd-Webber have his place on the earth?! For wisdom may be heard from any mouth.”
That they said it over the overused synth pitch-bend and shrieking 70s electric guitar sound served up by them Swedish lads doth not remove its wisdom! Lo, does not even the evil Sith Lord Lloyd-Webber have his place on the earth?! For wisdom may be heard from any mouth.”
For he had come to tell them that he was leaving them. “It’s not because I don’t love you! But I must move on, for it is moving on that
brought me to you, and you to I; I will still be with you, at a gig, at the
office, or somewhere in town, or anywhere two or more gather in my name. Not that you would. Or should.”
“For I say to you honestly, over time, jokes that only I get have become more frequent, and things anyone else might enjoy have gradually declined. For one must, in any long-running endeavour, put things purely for one’s own enjoyment, regardless of their traction for an audience. I respected and loved you too much to simply present you with Things You Might Actually Like. (And The Capitalisation (and the parentheses) may have got a bit out of hand.)”
“For I say to you honestly, over time, jokes that only I get have become more frequent, and things anyone else might enjoy have gradually declined. For one must, in any long-running endeavour, put things purely for one’s own enjoyment, regardless of their traction for an audience. I respected and loved you too much to simply present you with Things You Might Actually Like. (And The Capitalisation (and the parentheses) may have got a bit out of hand.)”
For it had been conceived as a challenge to speak to them
every week, something maybe topical, hopefully interesting, but always original
and new – and for one whole year. Using
big words to tell opinions for which no one had asked.
And yet, when they logged on did they see that the one year’s worth of rambling had been turned – by their faith – into five whole years of content! And yea, did no one ever comment on The Thing itself but only on the social media posting of the link to The Thing.
And yet, when they logged on did they see that the one year’s worth of rambling had been turned – by their faith – into five whole years of content! And yea, did no one ever comment on The Thing itself but only on the social media posting of the link to The Thing.
Ah, but wasn’t it good?
Wasn’t he fine! Isn’t it
madness……?
“And, yea, will it be nice to see or read something and not
feel compelled to write a review of it.”
For I tell you solemnly, no review did he write that was so
insightful as when he, The Reviewer, pointed out that Sibelius had stolen his most famous melody from Strawberry Switchblade.
And the people did laugh, thinking him to be some sort of clown, or
performing monkey. And lo, did they spit
their coffee over their laptop screens and regret it not. But then did they listen to the two tunes
back to back and understand, finally, that prophecy had been fulfilled.
But they will know, his followers, his acolytes, disciples, and even his detractors, mockers and nay-sayers, that his reviews of Z+ and Men Diamler and Babar Luck and all them were the ones he really meant, for
he was their follower and companion.
And, further, I say unto you, his followers, that the story
about The Chimp & Gibbon probably as one of the best, but not his own
personal favourite. But there were many
others you liked, and that’s fine.
And yet, would they tell him, when they saw him in the pub,
that they did read it every week. He
would thank them profusely and not let on that he knew the numbers by the hand
of the ISP and that some of them had not been reading. But he held it not against them, for their
time was precious, and his ramblings of varying quality.
Before he left them, he spoke again. “But have I other projects on which to
work? Indeed I do. For I go unto my heavenly father and mother,
and the internet connection is patchy at best in the garden. But, my friends, know this: these things I have done, you will do – and
greater things still. For I am an esoteric
pretentious and smugly self-satisfied blogger, where you shall reach The People
with your superior relatability and vulnerability. You will be an open book, where I have been
an E-learning module available for the new lower price of $129.99!
“Massive Thanks to all those who have heard, who have read and who have commented or shared! There are meanings and links here within, for those who
would find them! For no more can I stay
and teach you. You will go on, you must,
but I will not. I am to be raised up to
the sky by a mighty hand, never to be seen in my physical, or written form.
“Or, I might just do this monthly instead of weekly next
year.
Is that OK?”
Is that OK?”
