john | Oct. 23, 2022, 12:31 a.m.
I use to joke about the fact that I would sometimes rabbit hole into a problem; It would consume me. Then I would crack it. And then I would get bored. Start having existential crisis; then it would happen, a problem would find me. It would stick its finger out, generally in the attempt to wet willy me to start.
Coming sometimes from a grave. It would then slowly crawl towards me. Like the Adams family hand. Except it wouldn't just be a hand. It would be a problem, with a grotesquely looking mechanical finger.
It would find me. Always generally in what one can only describe as peak neurosis, sleeping.
Now of course, this wouldn't be a general problem or anything that can easily be solved. No, it would be a problem that would require thinking: Sometimes its capsizing a boat, other times its digging oneself out of a tree well, but at this specific moment its a mechanical finger attached to some benign looking faulty, short circuiting, adorable only in the eyes of its omnipotent overlord slave making problem maker creator. A rotten sandwich.
Generally problems always start with some vulgarity. Not specifically some though, just the vulgarity. You know the one I'm talking about.
See, you thought it, and I didn't even have to say it. It, like a problem. Finds itself right at the peak of the problem. Generally this is exactly where the solution begins. As the exasperation alone of shouting the vulgarity gives a sort of hallow joy.
Some sort of cosmic reaction. Or put more simply, when you realize you're fucked.
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