abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz. At your local library they have these arranged in ways that can make you cry, giggle, love, hate, wonder, ponder, and understand. It's astonishing to see what these twenty-six little marks can do. In Shakespeare's hands they became Hamlet. Mark Twain wound them into Huckleberry Finn. James Joyce twisted them into Ulysses. Gibbon pounded them into The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. John Milton shaped them into Paradise Lost.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Catch Me If You Can
I’ve seen this happen everywhere: boy sees girl, boy likes girl, boy pursues girl, girl finally concedes, boy gets bored. It all leads to one simple question: why? Why the chase, why the hoopla? At first, there’s passion, lust, and that ravenous desire to do everything possible (and beyond) to capture the object of your affection’s heart. You know, like the time he did something really unexpectedly sweet… like brought you brownies to cheer you up, because nothing quite hits the spot like 500 calories in all the wrong places. But somewhere down the road it all turns into… sheer blah. Forget brownies, you’ll be lucky to get chocolates on Valentine’s Day. Don’t get me wrong… I’m not scorned… just a bit jaded. And it just makes me wonder… if all the fun is in the chase, then maybe it’s better to never get caught… because you always want what you don’t have.
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