It’s been a pensive, introspective kind of week for me; and so in an attempt to connect with something other than myself, I’ve adopted a word.
No, you heard that right. I adopted a word. A lonely, under-used word. Like the words “jalopy” or “davenport”, my newly acquired charge has seen better days.
It’s a good-sized word. Likes to be taken out, trotted around. Also, according to the flyer, enjoys long walks on the beach and bubble baths.
Its pet peeves are cheapskates and hypocrites.
It’s a lovely word, though, picked at random, and it gives me hope.
Theomancy: divination or prophecy by an oracle or by people directly inspired by a god.
Almost like it’s meant to be, iddin it? Because what do we do here on Fridays? That’s right. We wish for silly things, like being able to divine the future; and for the last two and-a-half years I’ve been trying to convince rational, intelligent people like yourself that my iPod, set on shuffle for the week, has the ability, Friday morning and during my commute, to tell the future.
I’m here to tell you that my iPod is theomantic.
So what did the iPod say this morning?
My Party by Kings of Leon
Cubicle by Rinocerose
She’s in Parties by Bauhaus
Kick Out the Jams by the MC5
Love You To by The Beatles
Getting Down by The Kills
Dimension by Wolfmother
Relax, says the iPod. How ‘bout you lay on the floor in front of the stereo, cover yourself with a blanket and make up stories where your true identity as a super hero is slowly revealed to an adoring audience?
That’s what we call “sound advice”, and something I would put into practice right now, if I had a blanket at work…
The computer is down, you see; and in a moment that will no doubt set my high school teachers’ heads all nodding sagely, I’ve discovered that I’m rather useless.
I mean, look at me! See those? Those are my hands down there, heavily swinging from the ends of my wrists. Poor saps. Without the keyboard, they are useless, and they know it.
What would the pioneers say? Great-Grandma’s out there somewhere trying to sweep the dirt floor of a sod house, drying her bloomers on a clothesline over the potbellied stove in the kitchen, and here I am staring at a blank screen…
Enjoy your weekend, my pretties. Stay warm, have a drink on my tab; and if you find yourself doing something useful, think of me, won’t you?
Princesses of the New Age
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