Change the Subject

Friends forever and yet departed from each other for life. Yesterday will never meet tomorrow and, well, I think you get the message. Change the subject.

Greg kissed her hand and held it for a beat longer than was proper. She blushed and was suddenly interested in her soup. A slurp and a slip. A drop was a drip. And I’m just playing with words now. Masturgate to come to an ending of sorts. Change the subject.

She making me think about death. Change the subject.

A mat is materially magnificent. Oh lord, more wordplay. I must be bored. My head must be Emory. Who is Emory? The memory of emptiness? The emptiness of memory? Change the subject please!

I’m watching you read this. I’m over your shoulder. No, not that one. The other one. I’m not on the outside. I’m inside you. Watching your thoughts flower and die, flicker and lie down. I’m you. Change the … Oh, wait; hold on. This is more interesting. What if I am you and you are me. Can we be interchangeable? Will we ever know if we are? Ach, Who cares. Change the subject.

If I exhaust my mind with this skipperty skip of thoughts then I will reach nirvana. Do I have an infinity of thought? Unlikely. Do you have an infinity of patience? No. Something’s got to give. Change the frickin’ subject.

Several people have pointed out to me that I am … I have nothing. There’s no commonality to the things that people say about me. No two opinions are alike. I am alone in uniqueness and perversity amongst my peers. I am hooked on my opinions about myself but you are not. You are unique. Yeah, it’s you that are unique, not me. Well in that case, change the subject.

Dinner time is coming up. Blogging is out and eating is in. No more subjects to change. Done.

And I’m not going to have time to proof it either.

10 thoughts on “Change the Subject

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