The Dinghy

The Dinghy

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Thursday, June 19, 2003
 
Professional prognosticators, devoted diviners, erudite haruspices, introspective bartenders and yellow journalists canvass the past, the present and the future in order to give order to the time outside the now. With great lodes of potentially oracular data, they squat on their prodigious haunches by the fire, looking to see what is beyond the is (the now "is" that exists at THIS SPECIFIC time).

With their chicken bones, their pop-up, push-pinned star charts, their leaves of green tea (leave it to them to know what will be) and their gauzy, flowing scarves they speak with human mouths in the voices of the dead, the supernatural, the omnipotent, the semi-omnipotent and the potentially insane.

HERE IS WHAT THEY SAY: What will come to pass: will come to pass.

Thus, I am bolstered. Despite past transgressions, current accusations, future violations, erroneous convictions and extended court-ordered suspensions: I WILL OVERCOME. What will come to pass will come to pass. It is affirmed.

We must take heart at their portentous words: Again:

What will come to pass: will come to pass.

Will monotony be served? Maybe. Will the sufficient life be realized? Possibly. Will what will come to pass come to pass? Absolutely.

Admission: for the past month or so, I have been held in an underground think-tank against my ostensible will.

Yes: I was put on a kind of "administrative leave" by my direct superior (The Hegemon) at the Bureau of Records and Reports. Yes. His reason for placing me on this so-called "criminal leave" was apparently linked to a "tyrannical tirade" I purportedly performed in the company cafeteria approximately one month ago.

Do I regret my actions? No. Do I recall my actions? No. Do I assume responsibility for my actions? I don't know what you're talking about.

Inside that 3-by-3 tank of porcelain and tile I dreamt much about the nature of the "is" and the indescribable ecstasies of the monotonous. Sufficiency transcended the temporal, as sufficiency, when fully realized, is so very, very wont to do.

I have now (despite desperate political maneuvers by THE HEGEMON to prevent it) re-claimed my post at the Bureau of Reports and Records.

My co-worker, Adelard of Bath, welcomed me back with open arms. We are here again.

Here we are again.

That is all.

Goodbye forever.

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