Post by Jack of Blades on Apr 20, 2007 18:48:06 GMT -5
The weird thing about detritus is that people now expect it to have a rhyme and reason. You are not permitted to whitter on about anything you disagree with anymore unless you have established yourself as a social critic lest you gain the ire of the Mercs of the world. How horrible a civilization are we functioning within when even criticisms have to be done by sanctioned individuals? But, Jack, steady yourself, lets not turn this into another forgettable tirade like so many others before it, keep the attention on 'Outcast.' And so, like a vicious incarnation of 'Ouroborus', we return back to the infuriating imperative. Each particle of wistful diatribe has been put into practice. Each iota of irate honest has been called forth. I'm tired and done. That is not to say that the old, misanthropic Jack has changed into an optimistic belligerent contortionist (what with his cranium firmly installed in his anus.) Just that I have no way of channeling that disillusion in a medium that is understandable to others. I'm the angriest man in the world. Without a mouth.
Dysphoria: So I suppose, you don't want to read the transcript for Outcast's newest rant? Probably for the best as all he really do is 'flash' you.
Jack of Blades: Flash me? As in show me his naked body?
Dysphoria: Yeah, but he does put in some effort as to how he describes each accentuated nook of his frame.
Fan-tastic. Not only am I currently suffering some specialized episode of depression for the pre-conditioned insane but I also have an opponent who has the desire to narrate and present each and every facet of his body to me. Can today get any better?
Dysphoria: I think what he was intending to do was to illustrate his worth to the company by telling the anecdotal cause of each his scars. What it came off as being though was Outcast seeming like the lead from 'Priscilla: Queen of the Desert.'
That's it though, isn't it? It's not just today, this is not an isolated incident. This little phase of uncomfortable ambiance is not an anomaly. It will keep repeating itself and striking until I can find some cause to devote myself too. A cause with which to devote my time. But, with all available causes either requiring me to sound like an out-of-touch hypocrite or me being an out-of-touch hypocrite, I have no other option but to proceed in my efforts to roll that boulder uphill.
Dysphoria: If I were you, I wouldn't particularly worry yourself about anything he has to say or do. Its clear that you've gone past the point of no return.
She probably didn't say what I heard. It was probably comforting, motivating phrases intended to get me jumping off this bed and devising some sick little iniquity to impose on my contender. But I heard what I heard. I'll leave Outcast to close this anyway he wants with whatever sweeping dramaticism he requests because all I can offer is unbridled apathy.
Dysphoria: So I suppose, you don't want to read the transcript for Outcast's newest rant? Probably for the best as all he really do is 'flash' you.
Jack of Blades: Flash me? As in show me his naked body?
Dysphoria: Yeah, but he does put in some effort as to how he describes each accentuated nook of his frame.
Fan-tastic. Not only am I currently suffering some specialized episode of depression for the pre-conditioned insane but I also have an opponent who has the desire to narrate and present each and every facet of his body to me. Can today get any better?
Dysphoria: I think what he was intending to do was to illustrate his worth to the company by telling the anecdotal cause of each his scars. What it came off as being though was Outcast seeming like the lead from 'Priscilla: Queen of the Desert.'
That's it though, isn't it? It's not just today, this is not an isolated incident. This little phase of uncomfortable ambiance is not an anomaly. It will keep repeating itself and striking until I can find some cause to devote myself too. A cause with which to devote my time. But, with all available causes either requiring me to sound like an out-of-touch hypocrite or me being an out-of-touch hypocrite, I have no other option but to proceed in my efforts to roll that boulder uphill.
Dysphoria: If I were you, I wouldn't particularly worry yourself about anything he has to say or do. Its clear that you've gone past the point of no return.
She probably didn't say what I heard. It was probably comforting, motivating phrases intended to get me jumping off this bed and devising some sick little iniquity to impose on my contender. But I heard what I heard. I'll leave Outcast to close this anyway he wants with whatever sweeping dramaticism he requests because all I can offer is unbridled apathy.
