Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Livinghigh was here at 5:49 PM /

All That Jazz, minus Catherine Zeta-Jones

What's more important - a beat or a word?

What's more engaging, a hum or a full-throated song?

What's more lasting - a brief fling with an attractive person, or a romance to launch a thousand poets' careers?

Scary thought: could Moneycontrol actually be making me profound?

Scarier thought: maybe it was within me all the time.

Think about it as the antithesis that I am. I start off, asking myself questions that I have no clear answers to, at least none to which I can swear undying fealty to, and then I end up by finding the silliest answers imaginable from under the couch cushions. It's a part of being me, I guess.

My fever has abated today, though my head-cold still remains, and I hate the idea of still being at my desk, when there are so many people I'd rather be meeting right now, so many things I'd rather be doing with them, so many places I'd like to be visiting, so many highs I'd like to be climbing.

And yet, here I am, waiting, primarily so that I can receive my conveyance allowance from the fat guy behind the counter who is much too familiar with me for my liking. Now, if I were really quite cliched, I'd probably post another "What's more...?" question, between being free with your convictions and being tied to money, but then...

But then, I'm quite bored, really. Been there, done that... and.. all... that.... JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!


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