Ever since I read James Joyce's Ulysses, which is funny because I never actually read it, I have been enamoured by the man's enchantment with making up his own words - such words that describe the sound made by a human body when it hits a still body of water though whether the water-body is fresh or not is left to one's imagination, which in my opinion is one of those things that should never be left for the neurons of anyone other than the person who came up with the concept in the first place to figure out - to constitute sentences that span the length of one complete James Hadley Chase novel, which, by the way, does not imply that I am trying to put the men who are being spoken of on one pedestal since the world has as many pedestals as there are people to be put on them but it does make you kind of question the very basis of the sales pitch made by BPOs hiring people with IQs of chimpanzees to do the work of parameciums for if there is a place and time made for everyone then there should not be any need for any of us, rather all of us, to constantly push the limits that a challenging work environment compels us to do, unless, of course, my theory does not hold water but that is not something that has ever happened since I do not propound theories in pig-skin bags that are inherently water-proof as I tend to prefer the delicate properties of Shahtoosh, it being banned by the government to appease the environmentalists be damned more so because any term that has the word 'mental' as an intrinsic part of it to an extent that without it the word just becomes 'environists' which makes as much sense as Demi Moore's dating Ashton Kutcher does to any average hormonally active male with a self-esteem slightly greater than the amount of water in the Musi, and with the word 'mental' in it, it only evokes as much trust as the government it can be stated, without reasonable and sufficent doubt, that anyone who can make anything of what I have written so far, without actually saying anything, is either from a universe where gibberish is accorded a status much above that of the influenza virus or an out of work bloke who has nothing better to do than reading as many words as those thus far and those to follow since I really am in no mood to run a word count to tell you how many, partly because I am not using MS Word but mostly because I am a klutz.

Current Mood: Gloomy
Current Music: Evanescence - Bring me to life...