Sentences seeking approbation
I would like to say that there is a snaking queue of words here, with each noun, verb and adjective waiting to make its presence felt upon the clean white sheet of this virtual page. But there isn’t.
I had a brief dream, an even more fleeting vision, of groups of letters leaping into the blue — from an aircraft, naturally, equipped with parachutes, rather than from the roof of a tall building equipped with nothing but a desperate desire to see the ground hurtling towards them at a rate of knots — but even that quickly dissolved and dissipated. I think, therefore, that the words are remaining resolutely grounded on terra firma, with disinterested expressions on their faces and a distinct lack of ambition to go new places, meet interesting people and kill them.
I didn’t mean “kill them”. I meant “make friends with them”, obviously.
So there are no words here, or at least no words that I desire to be here. None that simply must make their presence felt in order to maintain my equilibrium. I am fishing for them, but I’m tired and they’re not rising to the bait.
I appear to be mixing my metaphors without due care and attention. No due care is good, however, because I live in hope that someone out there might notice such gratuitously shoddy workmanship and take me to task over it. Not so finely crafted after all, are you?
Yet I have no faith in that, just as I currently have abandoned all faith with my randomly chosen sequences of letters.
The only queue these words are forming is the rather orderly, typically British one that’s waiting for the first bus out of here, and complaining when two turn up at once.
Please remain orderly and polite at all times. Do not push.