Earnest, nót O’Nest

June 14, 2010

I have been informed that Earnest was late. He was O’Nest enough to admit so but then implied that his being late was of a piece with my being late. It is not so (and this handsomely illustrates my point of, exactly two messages below).

But first, here it is: Chapter 3 of Book 1.

So, let me tell you about Earnest. And yes, I’ll be O’Nest

When I’m O’Nest everything nothing weighs anything. My mind is free and the funk reigns supreme. Involuntary moves of the arse take place to the extent of embarrassing people with 50% of my genes and celebrating their 42nd birthday in years yet to come. I will be outspoken to the extent of speaking about things best kept unspoken of on the internet.

But when I am Earnest … the funk is as magnetic as I am, but fully charged and  in the same direction. I hate everybody, with just about enough vengeance to hate them just that little bit more than I hate myself. I would kill myself if I could. Yet I can’t, because I am a loser and I know I am a loser. “Shame on me.” I think, to my complete and utter shame. “I am late.” I will say, but never without pointing out that the buck doesn’t stop there.

When I am Earnest, shit goes slow. Hell is found, Paradise is lost. Then regained, shit speeds up, ceases to be shit, bling-bling suddenly comes to the mind and I don’t even mind feeling somewhat tacky. Only then I am really O’Nest.

Being Earnest I could never publish this. After it has been published I realize O’Nest can’t be bothered with reviewing it.

Thus concludes the lesson of today: self-control can be good but never better than the lack of needing self-control.


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