I got the blueprints on the weekend and I began building. Virtually, of course. It’s still not finished. It may never be. It’s waiting for me when I’m ready. It is safe for now. In “The Cloud”.
Not the cloud from where deities tell men to build boats. Not the cumulonimbus kind we learned about in grade school. No, these clouds have that intoxicating new car smell, those beautiful clusters of machines strung together with fibres of glass and twisted pair of copper.
Build it. A new obsession to take me further away from reality and make everyone crazy with my “Field of Dreams”.
Building takes from blogging. Stack them one on top of another, rule a line beneath and carry the one if you have to. When you do the equation, you’re not left with much.
I’ll focus on the question at hand. What will I be when I am a man? A builder? A blogger? A deadbeat Dad? I better decide before I go for a ride. An unpleasant ride down an unpleasant slide.
Snakes and ladders is a boring game and for some, the outcome is always the same…
But building can really retain my attention. You might say my attentiveness shows good retention. The thing I am building is of a dimension unparalleled in this parallel dimension. It is of what is known as epic proportions, or in the parlance of puffers: salesmen’s dimensions.
This will conclude the rhyming part of what you might call sick but some would call art.
The problem with building ’til six ay em is I lie about rhyming and do it again.