I have heard the new Ted Leo album. Oh yes, I have heard it. I have accomplished this feat through certain underground internets. I apologize to Ted, but I will likely purchase the album when it does finally arrive via legitimate channels. As well, I will be viewing him in concert for the second time, something which is rarely done. Such is the majesty this man exudes, accompanied by his coterie of pharmacists.
Yesterday I finished what might be called an opinion piece on the well-known topic of Marxian theory. In said paper, I attempted something that I have often striven for yet never achieved – I have coined a phrase. The phrase in question became the title of the paper, dragging the initial thesis off course greatly. Despite this, I stand by it as a phrase that could be used in papers, books, etc.
“Diversity of ruin” – it describes the myriad ways in which modern workers are alienated from their means of livelihood.
I would explain in greater detail, but it would be in such terms that neither you nor I would be likely to understand.
Once again, I apologize for my lengthy abscence. Rest assured, it was well spent — assume that such time away from this place is used in pursuit of otherworldly treasures, or in the heat of battle with beasts that would but utter death and it would come to pass.
Summer seems far away now, even though Winter has loosened its bony grip on my fair city. I have no doubt it will strike again, when weatherpeople least expect it. Regardless, plans for that time have already begun to coalesce. Talk of “gaming groups” and “bands” is whispered in hushed tones among those who know, the words quickly floating into ether.
I recently indulged in a splurge of such proportions that it might well be called a spree. I purchased two board games — Kill Doctor Lucky and Apples to Apples. The former I have played before, albeit not in this newer, improved incarnation. I am told the latter involves comparisons of Helen Keller and amusing adjectives. This pleases me. The results of this spree are lingering guilt and diminished monetary reserves. We shall see if it was worth it soon enough.
You may have noticed that the “Daily Doggerel” has not been updated in some time, a very long time to say the least. I have extracted what merit I could from the exercise, and moved on. Perhaps it will return, perhaps not. But forcing oneself to write poetry about the inane events regarded as news by our culture, often involving manatees and the men they love, is not something that I care to continue at this point.
