Working Theory

It's funny. Sometimes I put together a working theory as to how a certain thing is working, like a social hierarchy or something, or some sort of relationship pentagon, and even though I know it's probably incorrect, it brings me comfort.

And despite knowing that it's incorrect, and I'm expecting the reality to be different, when the reality turns out to be different, I can't help but be surprised.

For a little while after, my head is reeling. My reality gyroscope is going haywire trying to compensate for the slightest shove in a wayward direction. It's an interesting feeling.

Also, my knee feels funny.

Why I Love My Chinese Philosophy Prof

(Note: She is a Professor of Chinese Philosophy, not a Chinese Professor of Philosophy)

[General noise from construction equipment outside the window in the middle of her lecture]
"You know, it's a really good thing that there aren't any schools or anything near here, or else that would be really disruptive."

Madness

Every step you take, it follows. Sometimes it is so far back, you could hardly see if you looked. Other times it's breathing down your neck. Madness.

And the day that it overtakes you, I'll be there singing The Battle Hymn of the Republic backwards, my spatula held aloft, in a gesture of goodwill.

Bring your cat. He and I never did finish our conversation on Marxist theory.

Communist.

A Poem from 1:30 A.M.

Conceived by insomnia and insanity comes a new poem from the mind of Joshua Thompson:

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Proposal for the Changing of the Anomaly of Language That is the Word "Orange"

Orange we know,
Is a word with no rhyme.
Search if you will,
But you're wasting your time.

This colour, no doubt,
Is abandoned indeed,
Rhymes for the others
Are found with great speed.

So I would propose
A most foolhardy aim,
To modify "orange"
But not change it's name.

That's just too outrageous!
Surely you jest!
Cry misunderstanders,
While pounding their chests.

But our word "orange"
is a strange one, amen?
With it's letters "G.E."
Preceded by "N."

Similar words,
Like arrange and change,
Have companions plenty,
They're not estranged.

Was it an error,
Or is something amiss?
Why don't we say
Fair orange like this?

So from this day onwards
I am fixing this wrong.
"Or-ange" it is,
Like it should all along.

Now my dear list'ner,
My rant finds it's end.
Like red, blue, and green,
"Or-ange" has some friends.

And my most dear colour,
You might think it's strange,
Can end a rhyme scheme,
Just watch: "Or-ange!"

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