I told her that affection had two Fs, especially when you're dealing with me
Somewhere in that hazy netherworld between sleep and awake, between night and dawn, there lived a blog post.
I saw it.
Though my job is to capture said elusive beast, this one proved too cunning an adversary.
A fleeting glance showed that it included:
He felt old and depressed when he dressed as Billy Idol for Hallowe’en and one chick thought he was Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. He felt even older and depresseder when another chick asked, “What is Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”
And then it was gone again.
The warmth and coziness of the bed lured me back to sleep.
I awoke again to the sounds of seagulls on a nearby rooftop. When I imagined their plaintiff squawks to sound like Sloan’s “Underwhelmed,” I knew that I was in the right frame of mind for blog post hunting.
As is my destiny.
But, oftentimes blog posts don’t agree.
This one would let me think that I was closing in before revealing itself as merely a mirage of creativity.
The purpose of this eternal pursuit and retreat is lost on me. Are blog posts so rare a creature? Perhaps. And we all have our roles to play.
As the sun rose higher in the eastern sky, my stomach requested food, and the call of gmail grew louder, I watched my white whale get closer and closer to disappearing over the horizon.
“Not today, my worthy foe,” I thought.
I had been bested. There is no shame in that.
But, in the split second before it disappeared completely, the sun hit it just right and I managed to read:
Masturbation is the sincerest form of flattery.
You know, maybe this blog post is better off with it’s freedom.