De tempore novo

October 30, 2007

Oh Woe and Damnation, sheer and utter, to those who dare disparage the glorious powers of the men and arms who in this overly soft age take to the hardwood floors, scraping them with shoes of the victorious goddess, and bouncing the laughing spirits trapped in the spheres. O Muse, turn my song, let your gold plated lyre strum of the more martial and more manly pursuits of our age of plastic. Indeed, I find that I can no longer contain myself, a honey sweet song, half dyed by the weavers of rhetoric, a rock unshaped, deserving to be rejected by the architect, now leads itself on to this page. Tell not to me of suburbs and fashion and the pursuits of the overly soft. Rather let me sing, O Muse, of Lakers and Suns and and the naked Gauls, who have neither guards nor strategic depth.

Happy Basketball Season

WRITE AN ARTICLE EVERY WEEK, DSalad says to me. I WANT YOU TO he says to me.

FASHION I say to him. FASHION. This is the only world in which I may, I MAY have more knowledge than the geniuses who are my fellow Saladeers. So I say to DailyS TUESDAY YOU WILL HAVE IT. EVERY TUESDAY. COUNT ON ME.

It wasn’t a lie when I was saying it. Maybe I didn’t say which Tuesday. I do not recall.

You know what I do recall? I recall a time when an upturned collar, a starched preppy “popped” look, was a douchebag flag. Yesterday of last week, the day before this article would’ve been on time getOffMyAssEditorOkay?, I saw an upturned collar and my only thought was, “Oh my but this poor gentleman is sadly out of fashion.”

And I set down to write this blog and I realized, MY MEDIUM IS NOT EXPLANATION, IT IS CONVICTION.

So stop judging and pity. They do not know better.

I’ll see you next week. You won’t see me because I’m a fucking ninja.