Friday, December 12, 2014

A Manifestation of Wrong Words

There may have to be a pogrom, or a potlatch if you prefer. The trouble I suspect is not they who have offended the gods, it is I who have offended the gods. And as one who at root is deeply superstitious, or a sufferer from imagination if you prefer, I begin to realize the truth in the idea of the manifestation of spirits. I can say this because I obviously require the services of a priest or priestess who has dedicated his or her time on earth to exorcisms.

 There is however, the idea that the language I speak is not a shared one. So before I commit to an exorcism through pogrom of G Plus Circles, I am going to hunt down cloying and totally irrelevant phrases, pictures of cats, and I will search the thesaurus for the recipes of niceness, then plant them in the ether so I may watch them grow. Then if despite having done this I am still burdened by the spirits of red itchy blotches, I will reach for the delete button, or re-birth if you prefer. Odds are I'll return as an itch mite or scabies.

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