A celebration of absolute boredom

“Bla bla bla bla, duh, bla bla bla.”
“Not necessarily, bla bla bla.”
“Not if you bla bla.”
“bla.”
“Well how about bla bla bla.”
“Duh, bla bla bla bla bla.”

Now, don’t get me wrong! I know that I am giving off the completely wrong impression, as if it all doesn’t matter, that ultimately, it is just a matter of arbitrary right and wrong, of a few dimes falling off the table, pushing the stakes a little higher, a little lower without a point of orientation, and you might think that I think the intelligence of the discussion is weighed by the appearance of certainty and clarity of words, and that these five people that are seriously investigating and deliberating a minor point are mistakenly believing the minor point to be crucial, as in yesterday’s discussion, and last week’s discussion, but listen, that’s what life is, a chain of minor decisions with crucial consequences! Yes, you might easily mistake the cryptic phrasing of the dialogue as disinterest, and the disinterest as a lack of understanding, an incapacity even of acknowledging the real value of meetings like the above and most likely, oh why deny it, this is true, after all, by not finding meaning or importance in the very same event to which all other’s attach the stone weight of their thoughts to, how could it be different than by truth of common perception that I am wrong.

“Bla bla bla.”
“Bla duh?”
“Bla bla bla bla.”

But don’t be mistaken, my thought is of little value, go and try to sell it, I give you a thousand dollar, try and make a single person believe in it, with all the advertising power you can buy, with all the persuasion of marketing, laymen psychology combined with half-persistent statistics, go and run with it, and try and make a cent of it, it’s impossible, the whole attempt to reverse the meaning is but a weak-bodied, soft-minded attempt to pseudo-intellectualize, like a reflection that is thrown on a muddy pool, that makes me say ‘puh-lease.’ What is such corporate exorcism worth, how purging such left-wing chanting?

But don’t be mistaken, nothing validates the arts more than a dulled mind wasted in a business meeting, nothing urges me more to distance myself, to near the aloofness that makes us carve our wings, the hatred of commonality, the fear of improper thought, oh, and how forgiving am I to feel that rousal, that heat of inner fire in which such meetings poke and stir, alas this boredom, the oracles of business, of self-proclaiming importance, how these embers of beauty burn and flare up with their breath.

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